A Boy Like Me
by Harper Penn
Summary: House meets a young man in a bad situation, and decides to help him. Explores House's abusive past as well as his capability as a father figure. T rating to be safe, also because I am fond of naughty words. Includes an OC named Jacob. Preslash/slash, but NO smut.
1. Chapter 1

**So, for those of you reading In the Middle of the Night, this doesn't follow that. I haven't updated and can't for a while, so I figured I'd post this. I wrote it a while back, and it's been sitting on my computer for a long time. Posting it will motivate me to work on it. **

**Also, if House is OOC, bear with me and use your imagination. **

In the semi-early hours of a horribly sunny morning, Dr. Gregory House slouched into the free clinic at PPTH. His facial expression was about as far away from 'rainbows and sunshine' as a human being can possibly achieve, mostly due to the fact that he was there against his will.

Dr. Lisa Cuddy was behind him, watching him like a hawk. She'd cornered him on his way into the building and had twisted his arm into making up the hours he'd missed of his clinic duty.

House's team, also working on the ridiculous amount of hours their boss had amassed, watched him stalk into the clinic amusedly.

Chase smirked at Foreman, tossing down a patient file he'd just finished up. "Looks like Cuddy caught him today," he observed, watching House practically slam a patient room's door in Cuddy's face.

* * *

House sighed, resting his head on the door. Clinic duty. What a horrible waste of time for someone of his intelligence. He should be in his office, preventing outbreaks of smallpox and deciding that no, it wasn't lupus. Instead, he was prescribing bed rest to people with _colds._

"Who're you?"

House cocked his jaw, tapping his cane on the floor. If he didn't know Cuddy was waiting right outside the door, he would have fled right then and there. Without turning around, he answered.

"Oh, just some random bystander who decided to come into your room. Who the hell do you think I am?"

He turned then, reading through the file without looking up at the patient. "Jacob Darning, fourteen, admitted with…"

He trailed off, reading through the file silently.

Finally, he raised his gaze to take in his patient.

A young man was sitting uncomfortably on the bed. Green eyes watched House warily from behind long, dark brown bangs. But what caught House's attention was the large black eye the kid was sporting.

"Nice shiner," House said evenly, watching for the kid's reaction. "What happened?"

Jacob spoke up, clearing his throat before doing so. "Got into a fight with a kid at school," he mumbled.

House cocked his head to the side. He would have bet ten clinic hours that that was a lie, what with the way Jacob had stumbled over his words and shifted his gaze away from his doctor. He didn't have the markings of the sort of kid who got into brawls.

"Now now, don't lie to me. I haven't even asked you the important questions yet," House tutted, watching as Jacob stiffened, his face paling a bit.

"SO!" he yelled, just to startle the kid. Jacob jumped about a foot in the air, his breathing accelerating. "What brings you here, Jacob, aside from the obvious?"

Jacob grimaced, hugging himself. "M' head hurts," he muttered, eyes downcast. He swallowed.

"Does it now. What'd he slam you into?"

Jacob met his eyes, his face startled. "How'd you-"

"Answer the question," House said flatly.

Jacob bit his lip, starting to stand. "You know what, it feels better now, actually. Thanks anyway…"

House brought his cane up, barring the doorway. Jacob stopped his escape attempts, watching House with a mixture of fear and anger. "Come on, man. I want to go."

House nodded slowly. "Sit down, Jacob. I'm just gonna do a few tests. If you check out, you can go."

Jacob sat down warily. House fished out his penlight, thankful that he'd crammed it into his back pocket for once.

"Hmm," he surmised after a moment.

"What is it?" Jacob asked worriedly, blinking at the bright light. "I told you, I'm fine."

House raised his eyebrows. "Really? Because you have a concussion. Slight, but it's there."

Jacob looked panicked. "Please, I can't stay here long. I've got to be at school, or-"

House jumped in. "Or, what? Daddy dearest gonna hunt you down?"

Jacob's eyes widened, pupils contracting in fear. "I d-don't know wh-what you're t-talking about," he stuttered.

House sighed, hooking a stool with his cane and bringing it to him so he could sit. He'd hit right on the money, from the kid's reaction.

"We're gonna be here till you tell me what happened, kid," he stated matter-of-factly. "I've got _all _day."

Jacob stared at him, swallowing repeatedly.

"I told you, I got in a fight with a kid at school," he restated. "He slammed me into a wall. That's all. So just give me a prescription and let me go!"

House pressed his lips together, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew the kid was lying his ass off. He showed all the markers of an abuse case. Fidgeting, easily panicked, ashamed of showing pain.

These weren't things House had been taught. He'd experienced them first hand, learning the hard way.

He cocked his head to the side.

"I get it, Jacob," he said slowly. "You think if you say anything, he'll know. He'll find out, and he'll punish you. Am I right?"

Jacob visibly flinched. "Please just let it go," he whispered, not meeting House's eyes.

House shook his head. "You're wrong. He's not all powerful. He doesn't control every aspect of your life like you think he does, trust me."

Jacob's eyes watched him warily, never straying.

_Keep the threat in sight,_ House thought to himself. _Another lesson I wish I'd never learned. _

He splayed his hands out wide, trying to seem as non-threatening as physically possible. "Kid, if you really want to go, go. I can't exactly chase after you, if you didn't catch that," he half joked, holding up the cane. "But I know you want out of this. I can help you, if you'd let me."

Jacob eyed the door, blinking furiously. House realized with a slight sense of panic that the kid was crying.

"Hey. It's okay," he said after a moment, feeling totally unlike himself as he uttered the useless platitude.

"He hit me," Jacob whispered. "Punched me over and over. Grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me into the wall."

House bit his cheek, trying to keep his memories at bay.

"Mom not around?" he guessed, and correctly. The kid shook his head.

"No. Just me and him," he muttered.

"I-" he began, then choked on his words. His tears were flowing harder now. "I can't go home. I hit him back. God, why did I hit him back?"

House could see the anguish plainly on the kids face, knew exactly what he was feeling.

"It was right," he told him firmly. "I know it seems like it was stupid now, but it was right."

Jacob shook his head, hugging himself again. "Are you going to call CPS?" he asked shakily.

House measured the boy for a moment. "Do you want me to call CPS?"

Jacob bit his lip. "I won't have any where to go," he stated sadly. "He's all I have."

House saw himself in this boy. He saw his father's hands, shoving _him. _Saw _his _father beating him black and blue. Saw _John House_ dunking his child's head in an ice bath.

He knew what this kid was going through. Knew _exactly _what it was like. But Jacob, unlike him, had a way out.

"You'd be in foster care," House said after a long moment. "At least for a while."

The words brought a look of fear to Jacob's face. "Please don't say anything," he pleaded with House. "You know no one would adopt a teenage boy with abuse issues. I'd be stuck in the system till I turned eighteen."

House snorted. "And you're saying that's worse than what you're dealing with now?"

Jacob shook his head. "I _know _what I'm dealing with now. I'd be lost in the system."

House shook his head. "I'm required to report abuse if I see it."

Jacob scoffed. "Oh, come on. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who follows the rules. You aren't even wearing a lab coat, a name tag. Don't give me the 'it's the rules' spiel."

House raised his eyebrows, impressed in spite of himself. This kid was smarter than he looked. "You're right," he gave him after a moment. "I'm not a rule follower. But I'll still have to report this."

The color drained from Jacob's face. He was sure he had won. "You can't," he pleaded. "Do you know what he'd do to me?"

House stared at him. "I have a pretty good idea, yeah," he answered, thinking about a few close calls he'd had with his own father and people who had noticed the abuse.

Jacob watched him, his eyes narrowing. "Your dad too, huh?" he stated more than asked.

House looked at him sharply. "That's none of your business."

Jacob latched onto this, using it to his advantage. "You know what I'm dealing with, man! If your dad was anything like mine, you know I can't say anything. The only reason I'm here is because I thought he'd kill me if I went home too fast, and I couldn't show up to school with this headache. Just give me some pain killers and let me go."

House shook his head. "I wish someone had been there for me," he said quietly. "I wish someone had done for me what I'm about to do for you."

Jacob's eyes widened. "I won't say a word. I won't give them anything to work with."

House scoffed. "Your dad will beat you senseless anyway. You know it, and I know it. Stop kidding yourself."

Jacob bit his lip, deflated.

"I'm alone," he said quietly. "I've got nothing else."

House looked at him evenly. "You seem like a pretty smart kid, Jacob," he pointed out. "I bet you can manipulate people easily, right?"

Jacob nodded slowly.

"You know why that is? Survival mechanism. You need it to survive in the home you're in. I've got it too, along with some other fine attributes that I'm sure you share."

Jacob shook his head. "What does this have to do with anything?" he asked.

House rolled his eyes. "You're a bit slower than I was, but you'll learn. What I'm saying is that I wouldn't mind hanging around with a minny-me, for a while. Four years, to be exact."

Jacob's eyes widened. "Wait. Are you saying you'd _foster _me?" he asked incredulously.

House raised his eyebrows. "I know people. Well, to be more specific, I have _dirt _on people. It wouldn't take much for me to twist the system a bit and land you with me and my room mate."

_Stop! _House's mind screamed. _What are you saying? You can't take care of a kid! You can hardly take care of yourself! You don't even know him!_

But the fact was, House knew him more than he'd like to admit. He recognized every flinch, every deflection. He saw himself in Jacob Darning, and he was going to be damned if another kid turned out like he did.

"Look, kid," House said seriously, after a long moment. "I'm not saying you're gonna love me and call me Daddy. I'm not saying I'm going to be a good parental figure. But it'd be a hell of a lot better than what you're dealing with now."

House, eyes on his cane, finished quietly. "I'd never hit you. I know how much it hurts."

Jacob looked at House closely. "Why're you doing this?" he demanded. "You don't seem like the kind of guy to do something out of the kindness of your heart, no offence."

House chuckled. "None taken, because I'm not. Truth be told, I'm curious. And I've been told that I'm somewhat of a loony."

House studied him. "I know you don't love him," he pointed out quietly. "I never loved mine. Feared him, yes. Loved him, no. It'd be no skin off your nose to leave him behind, and you know it."

Jacob swallowed. "You're right, but…"

"But what? It's the best option you've got right now, kid. I'm just offering up my place till you find somewhere better. Hell, I'll help you get emancipated if that's what you want."

He twisted his mouth. "Take it or leave it, but I'm reporting the abuse to CPS regardless."

Jacob looked him up and down, as if assessing his options. "I don't even know your name," he mumbled.

House stuck out his hand to shake. "Greg House, M.D."

The kid eyed him, then shook it slowly.

**So, what do you think? I realize that adoption and the foster care system are hardly like what I've described, but this _is_ a fictional story. Reviews are welcomed with open arms and chocolate!**


	2. Chapter 2

**For those of you wondering, this fic is in a world where House has Taub, Chase, Foreman, and Kutner in his team. I left out Thirteen because I find her hard to write about, and I loved Kutner and was pretty mad when he 'left' the show. Also, House lives in a flat with Wilson, though I haven't decided as to whether or not he's back on vicodin yet. In this version, he never gets kicked out. Sorry for any confusion this causes.**

House pointed at Jacob's head. "Before we do anything, we have to get that mess cleaned up."

The young man nodded his consent and House examined the back of his head with surprisingly gentle hands. However, Jacob still flinched slightly at the contact.

"Hurts," he explained briefly, but House saw the flush that had just adorned his cheeks.

He didn't comment. He'd been gun-shy too, at that age.

He examined the area. "No blood, lucky you," he stated after a moment. He tossed the kid a cold pack, then crossed his arms.

"Any other injuries I should know about?" he asked, feeling like Wilson as he eyed the kid's hoodie. The oncologist had asked him the same question more times than he could count, mostly after bar fights that didn't end in his favor.

Unsurprisingly, Jacob did the same thing he did. "No."

"Uh huh. You want to take off that jacket?"

Jacob made a face at him, but slowly, he pulled off the hoodie. What House saw made him wince in sympathy.

Bruises were all over his arms. They were the marks a person got when covering themselves, but not fighting back, during a beating. He didn't see anything that would do lasting damage, but that didn't mean the kid wasn't in massive amounts of pain.

House did a normal check up after that. When he used the stethoscope, he saw clearly that the bruises continued onto his ribs and chest.

House leaned back and sighed. "Okay. I'm going to write you a script for some prescription strength acetaminophen."

At Jacob's blank look, he clarified. "Tylenol. Pain medication? Tell me we're on the same bus here."

Jacob shook his head. "I know what acetaminophen is."

"Then wipe that look off of your face, you look like a vegetable."

Jacob blinked. "I'm sorry. I just… this is so… surreal."

House rolled his eyes, though privately he knew exactly what the boy meant. If this had happened to him during _his _childhood, the next thing he would have expected to see was flying pigs.

"Come on. You hold onto this," he said, cramming the prescription into the boy's hands. "I'm going to talk to my boss, and one of my fellows will hook you up with some pain meds."

House barged out of the room, the young man following behind him meekly after he re-donned his hoodie. Chase and Foreman watched them with bemused expressions on their faces.

House pointed out Chase to Jacob. "Tell him to get these for you, because I said so. If he argues tell him I'll make him do the patient charts for the last three years if he won't."

House was forcing lightness upon the situation. He knew that the kid must have been flipping out inside.

"Cuuuudddleees!" House shouted, making her secretary drop her papers in a nervous mess. "I have something to teeellll you!"

Jacob watched the seeming lunatic with wide eyes as he walked right into his boss's office, standing firmly with his legs spread apart and his cane in the middle. Then the door slammed shut, and all he could hear was muffled talking.

Cuddy looked up from her paper, frowning. "Whatever it is, House, it's not going to get you out of clinic. Get your ass back in there and do your job." She looked back down at her paperwork, problem cleared up in her mind.

House stared her down until she looked back up.

"I'm reporting an abuse case," he said without preamble, inwardly slightly amused when her eyes widened.

Cuddy's eyes flickered to the young man talking to Chase outside her office. As she watched, Chase's shoulders drooped and they walked together to the miniature pharmacy. "House, if this is a joke-"

"Not a joke. Kid showed the signs, I asked him about it, and with a little pressure he told me. You need to call CPS and have daddy arrested."

Cuddy scoffed at him, still sure he was joshing her around. "House, I'm not in the mood for this."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's okay. I'll just tell Jacob there to go home, because my boss isn't in the mood to call child protective services. I'm sure he'll understand."

Cuddy was still half convinced he'd paid off the kid to give him an excuse to get out of clinic. "Stupid attempt at a joke, House."

House went livid, slamming his cane on her desk with a resounding _crack. _Several papers landed on the ground, fluttering softly in protest."You think I would joke about this?" he hissed. "I do have limits, Cuddy."

Still slightly disturbed by his outburst, Cuddy snapped at him. "Since _when_? And how would _you _recognize the signs of abuse, anyway? You've skipped every class on the subject, I know you have." she accused.

His eyes darkened, but he chose to go with an explanation she would understand instead of the one he was thinking; '_he looked just like I did.'_

"Take one look at the kid, and you'll see what I saw. He flinched at every loud noise, every sudden movement. He's ashamed to admit pain- he's got a concussion and all he said was that his head hurt a _bit._ He's gun-shy and covered in case, Cuddy. Now call CPS, I haven't got all day, and neither does he."

Cuddy was now convinced, thoroughly in fact, but that didn't stop her curiosity. She got the feeling that there was something House was not telling her. "Since when do you give a shit, anyway?"

House looked at her coldly. "I may be an asshole, Cuddy, but abuse isn't something I'd just ignore." _Not like my doctors did, _he thought angrily to himself.

Cuddy's cheeks reddened, and she felt slightly ashamed. "Right. Give me the file and I'll make the call. Wait with him until they come for the interview."

House tossed down the file, turning on his heel to limp out of the room. He figured it was best not to say anything about his future plans for the kid. He supposed she'd figure it out soon enough

He nodded to Jacob, who was quaking slightly in his seat next to the door. He had a crumpled white bag in his fist, a pill bottle in another. "It's done," he told him gruffly, but with a slight hint of understanding in his voice. "Come on, I've been instructed to babysit you until CPS arrives."

Jacob got up quickly, following the doctor. "So how is this going to work?"

House eyed him. "You'll talk to the interviewers, tell them everything. They'll investigate your dad, keep you in protective custody for a few days. Then when he's convicted they'll permanently take you away from him, place you in the system. From there I'll step in and get you into my flat as a foster kid."

Jacob looked a bit overwhelmed. "You said you had a roommate," he questioned suddenly. "What're they like?"

House flickered a smile. "He's a pansy of an oncologist, and he'll absolutely adore you and all your neediness."

Jacob blinked. "Oh. I didn't know you were…"

House laughed, rolling his eyes. "Not gay, Jacob. Just friends."

Jacob looked slightly relieved. "Oh. Okay. Not that I'd have a problem if you were, of course, but-"

"Quit babbling, you sound like a moron."

Jacob blinked, but closed his mouth all the same.

House looked him up and down, stopping at the clinic desk to sign out. "You hungry, kid?" he asked after a moment, an idea sparking into motion.

Jacob swallowed. "Uh… yeah."

"Good. We're going to meet mister pansy right now, and he can buy us both some food. You should have a full stomach with those meds you just took."

"Oh, but I have money-"

House cut him off again. "First rule of hanging with me; you never pay. That's what Wilson's for. Come on."

Jacob followed him, hands shoved into his dark hoodie's pockets. House punched the elevator button with his cane, drawing attention to it.

Jacob looked a bit afraid to ask, but he did so anyway. "So what's up with your leg?"

House sighed inwardly. That may have been his least favorite question in the world. He still hated having to explain.

"Infarction."

"Isn't that… a heart attack?" Jacob asked, confused.

House was privately impressed that the kid knew what that was at all. "Sort of. Only this one happened in my leg. Caused some muscle death and the dead tissue was removed."

Jacob pinched his lips together in sympathy as the elevator went up. "It hurts, huh?"

House eyed him sharply. Not many people who he met in passing realized the pain he experienced with the injury.

Jacob explained briefly. "I could just see it in your face."

House slowly nodded. "Hurts everyday."

He left it at that, and Jacob didn't push.

The doors _pinged _open, and House limped out. Jacob followed him to a nice wooden door, labeled "Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology".

House flung the door open without knocking, just as he'd done with his boss.

"Wilson, I'm hungry," he told the man sitting at the desk. Jacob hung back behind the door frame as House threw himself down on a chair, throwing his arms out over the back.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "When are you not hungry?"

"When I'm sleeping. We're going to the cafeteria so you can pay for my breakfast. Get up."

Jacob's eyes widened slightly at House's reckless tone, but Wilson seemed used to it. He sighed and stood, grabbing his wallet. "You know, you could be a bit less transparent about this," he mentioned, starting to walk out of his office. He trailed off as he caught sight of Jacob.

"Hello," Jacob said uncertainly. House grinned behind Wilson's back.

Wilson shot House a look. "House, who is this?"

"My long lost cousin Billy," House joked, standing to shove past him. "Come on, they stop serving breakfast at ten thirty."

Wilson shrugged, sticking his hand out to shake with Jacob. "Dr. Wilson."

Jacob shook, shaking his head in amazement. "Jacob Darning. Is he always like that?" he asked, gesturing to House, who was already at the elevator.

Wilson rolled his eyes, but fondly. "No, sometimes he's worse."

They caught up with House just as the doors opened. "So what brings you to hang out with this guy?" Wilson asked, thumb gesturing over his shoulder at House. "You can't tell me it's his personality."

House cut in. "I've been told to babysit, and the kid's hungry. Ergo, we came to you for food, as usual."

Wilson eyed Jacob. "I've got to ask," he said somewhat apologetically, pointing to his eye.

Jacob swallowed and looked down. House spoke up again, hooking Wilson's arm with his cane and pulling him back. "Kid got into a fight at school," he growled, a warning tone in his voice. His face seemed to say, 'leave it alone, Wilson'.

Wilson knew when to shut up, and he did so. When the door opened, House led them to the cafeteria.

Wilson watched with dismay as House piled his tray with food. "House, do you just not eat if I'm not there to pay?" he questioned him only half jokingly. House had always been thin, but after the infarction he'd lost a ton of weight. It truly looked like he only ate if Wilson bought him a meal.

House shrugged, choosing not to answer.

Next to him in line, Jacob timidly grabbed a bagel. "I do have money," he told Wilson apologetically.

Wilson waved his hand at him. "You, I don't mind paying for. It's the other working adult that I've got the issue with."

House jerked his head at Wilson when he got to the cashier. The employee had long ago learned to not expect money from the crass diagnostician, and nodded at Wilson kindly.

Wilson smiled at him and paid for all three meals, feeling like the father of two children.

House sat down at their usual booth, and Wilson slid in across from him. Jacob stood there uncertainly, worry crinkling his forehead.

House rolled his eyes. "Kid, we don't bite. Hard," he added as an afterthought. "Okay, Wilson doesn't bight hard. Sit."

The kid sat, rather like a dog obeying a command. He slid into the seat next to Wilson, apparently deciding that the brown eyed oncologist was the safer of the two.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to know," Wilson asked finally as Jacob picked at his bagel. "Are you his patient or something?"

House narrowed his eyes at Wilson, but Jacob spoke up. "Sort of. He treated me in the clinic earlier."

Wilson's face immediately became sympathetic. "Ah, I see. You doing okay?"

"No, Wilson, he came to the clinic because he feels perfect," House snarled. He didn't want the kid to have to explain his situation to Wilson. First off, he knew how much pain and confusion the fourteen year old was going through at the moment, and he cared just enough to not make him voice it. Second, if Jacob told Wilson why he was here, that would start the wheels turning in Wilson's head and make him suspicious.

House didn't need that.

Jacob surprised him by taking the initiative, no pointers needed. "I'm fine now. His boss told him to watch me until… uh… my aunt… comes to take me home. Apparently the hospital isn't a fan of pyrotechnics."

House just about choked on his eggs. This kid was good.

Wilson looked faintly green. "Uh huh. Well, I need to be going," he muttered, letting Jacob slide out of the booth so he could scoot away. "House, stop bringing your criminal friends in here. Wasn't the mobster bad enough?"

House grinned. Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell Wilson the plan he had for this 'criminal friend' of his. It _did _involve him staying in their home until further notice, after all.

He was going to enjoy the look on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**In this version, the loft has three bedrooms. Sorry for the gap in updates.**

House watched Jacob pick at the bagel for a minute more before he finally spoke up. "You _can_ tell Wilson," he reassured him quietly, feeling the need to make sure the kid had someone to talk to that was actually able to express emotion like a normal human being. "He's a good guy."

Jacob caught House's gaze. "Have _you_ told him?"

House twisted his mouth. "That's not the point. I'm old and past it. You're young an in it."

Jacob gave him an appraising look. "Hypocrisy at its finest."

House sighed, but inwardly he was a bit amazed. This kid was too much like him.

He still hadn't taken a real bite of his food. "Eat, kid."

"I can't," he answered somewhat apologetically. "I'm nervous."

House had been there. "I feel yah, kid. But, you may not know this, eating is essential to life."

Jacob rolled his eyes, and House caught a trace of what might have been a smile if the situation hadn't been so stressful for the kid.

House's cell phone went off, and he checked the text quickly. "They're here, Jacob," he told the kid as gently as he knew how.

Jacob swallowed, his fingers involuntarily squishing the bagel. "Lets go then, I suppose."

House nodded, and together they walked to the clinic and into the patient room where the CPS worker was waiting.

She was medium height, and young. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled into a no-nonsense braid, her dark eyes hidden behind square glasses. She looked like she got shit done, for lack of a better description.

She nodded kindly enough at Jacob. "Hello, Jacob. I'm Jackie Pattenson, and I'm here for CPS."

She broke off from her conversation to address House. "And who are you?"

House stifled the urge to roll his eyes. He knew it was his fault for not wearing a lab coat, but he still got annoyed at the question. "I'm the _doctor _that reported this. It's House."

She opened up immediately once she knew he was a doctor, and therefore bound by patient confidentiality. "Okay then, Dr. House. Could you give us his medical report and your professional opinion regarding the case? It will help us greatly with the eventual court case."

House nodded, watching Jacob pale considerably out of the corner of his eye. He handed Pattenson the kid's file and launched into an explanation.

"Jacob came in originally with a head ache. Because of the way he was acting, I asked him if he had been abused. He confirmed-"

"Whoa whoa, Dr. House," Pattenson demanded, holding up her hand "The way he was acting? What specifically tipped you off?"

House pushed down his impatience. He knew the woman was just doing her job, and the kid didn't need any more stress at the moment.

"Jacob displayed injuries common with abuse cases. He was jumpy at loud noises and touch, as are most physical abuse victims. He was uncomfortable talking about any pain he was in, and when I approached the subject, he tried to leave. I convinced him to stay, and he did and allowed me to treat him. He has markers that indicate taking abuse without fighting back; bruises on his forearms from shielding himself."

House pushed back his disgust. Who just continued to attack someone who wasn't fighting back, especially someone so young? Jack ass fathers, that's who.

"Jacob confided in me that he attempted to strike back at his father, and was afraid to go home. He has a slight concussion and couldn't attend school because of the headache."

"Thank you, Dr. House. We can take it from here," Jackie said professionally, though inside she was slightly awed by his ability to pick up on the less obvious signs of abuse. She'd worked at CPS for a long time, and had only just gotten into tune with some of the quieter cases. As far as she knew, only those that had experienced abuse themselves had the natural talent at picking up on it."

House nodded, making eye contact with Jacob as he left. "Just tell the truth, kid. There's nothing he can do to you here, alright? I'll see you soon."

Jacob ducked his head gratefully, and House shut the door behind him.

* * *

House spent the rest of the day preoccupied. He was glad he didn't have a case, because he wouldn't have been focusing on it at all.

He hadn't missed the stares that had been following him throughout the day. Cuddy had walked by his office far more times than necessary. She never came in, but she craned her neck to watch him as he sat idly at his computer.

Chase and Foreman watched him too. Kutner was happily oblivious, and Taub was gone for the week on a vacation. Chase had obviously picked up on what had happened, and had told Foreman.

House chose to ignore the looks. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone.

He left early, speeding out of the parking lot on his bike like a madman. He was ready to be away from the hospital, and back in the loft. Wilson would be along shortly, and then they could just relax.

He walked into his home tiredly, leaning on his cane. The day had taken a lot out of him, emotionally at least. He didn't want to admit it, but emotional stress as well as physical took a toll on his leg. At the moment, it was screaming for a heating pad and a cold beer.

However, he had stuff to do. He ambled his way to the extra room in the loft, glad that they'd chosen the loft despite the extra room. It wasn't too bad. A few boxes of crap neither of them had been enthusiastic enough to put into their proper places lay scattered around, but there was a bed and a dresser. It would do.

House turned around and sat heavily at his piano. They'd finally paid to have it moved from his old apartment on Baker Street, setting it up in the living room adjacent to the organ James had chosen out.

House eyed the room. It wasn't bad, really. He was happy here with Wilson, and Wilson was happy with him. They'd both mutually and silently decided that this was the right thing to do, and that the arrangement would be permanent.

The diagnostician looked at his guitars on the wall as he thought. He and Wilson had a strange relationship, that was for sure. He was faintly aware that what they had went above friendship, but that was as far as he was willing to pursue it at the time. Though he was positive that James shared the feelings of attraction, House was currently unwilling to take that step. He wanted to keep Wilson as a friend, where it was safe.

He sighed as he picked out a slow tune on the piano idly, his hands moving on their own accord. He wasn't really sure he'd ever be ready. To say he had trust issues was an understatement. It was lucky for him that Wilson wasn't pushing it.

As if beckoned by his thoughts, Wilson walked in the door. He smiled a half smile of greeting at House as he took off his jacket and tossed his briefcase on the coffee table, then went straight to the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" Wilson said aloud to no one in particular, not really meaning it as a question.

"Just order pizza!" House called from his seat at the piano. His hands had automatically moved to a happier tune as Wilson walked in the door. House felt lighter all of a sudden, more at ease. That was the effect that James had on him.

Yes, it was certainly more than friendship.

Wilson silently rolled his eyes. "We've got food, House. I'm not ordering out _again. _Why don't you make something for once?"

Wilson knew House could cook, and cook well. Like so many other things in his life, he exceeded to genius standards.

House grunted noncommittally from his piano bench, and Wilson resigned himself to cooking again. Privately, he knew that House's non answer meant that his leg was hurting him worse than usual. But he couldn't say that to House, so instead he kept the situation light.

"Lazy ass," he mocked lightly as he started spaghetti noodles boiling.

House smiled softly, yet sadly, at Wilson's teasing. He knew that Wilson was well aware of why he didn't want to get up and limp around the kitchen. He'd never said anything aloud, but Wilson knew.

He got up, somewhat unsteadily, and limped heavily to the kitchen, practically falling into a chair. Wilson chose not to look up as House kneaded his leg rhythmically with both hands.

"So what was with that kid?" Wilson asked, eyes on the pot he was stirring. Once he'd thought about it, he didn't by the kid's juvenile delinquent story. "You and Stacy didn't have some love child that I'm not aware of, right?"

House gave him a look that clearly said the joke wasn't funny. Then, he sighed. He'd have to tell Wilson eventually. Why not now?

"How do you feel about having another roommate?"

Wilson blinked, then turned around abruptly. "_What?"_

"Must I always repeat myself around you, Jimmy?"

"House, who are you talking about here?"

House rolled his eyes. "Wilson, for the love of God, I know you have a brain! Use it! The kid!"

Wilson's jaw dropped to the floor. "You… you want too… You?"

House glared at him. "Did you take an extra stupid pill this morning? Those aren't candy, Wilson, what did I tell you."

Wilson was still in shock. "Where are the kid's parents?"

House shrugged. "Mom's gone, didn't ask for details. Dad's probably in the county jail at the moment."

Wilson blinked, then he put two and two together. "He was an abuse case? You called it in? _You?_"

House frowned. Everyone else had had the same reaction, so why not Wilson too? "I'll tell you what I told Cuddy. I'm an ass and I don't deny that. But I'm not going to let child abuse go unchecked."

Wilson's head was spinning. "And you want to bring him here? Why?"

"Kid's got no where else to go. I emp- sympathize," House said, catching himself just in time.

Wilson shook his head. "House, _you_ don't _sympathize_."

House rolled his eyes. "Well, looky here, there's a first time for everything. Here I am, taking a big step and doing something nice for someone. So are you cool with it?"

Wilson stared at him. "It's not like you can just pick him up like a pound dog, House. You do have to go through the system."

House shrugged. "I've got friends- well, tools anyway- in the right places. It would only take a few twisted arms."

Wilson gave him a long, measured look. "This isn't a game, House. You can't change your mind and give him back if you don't want him anymore. You can't play with a kid's life like that."

House pressed his lips together. "Wasn't planning on it."

Wilson shook his head. "Look, I don't really have a problem with it. The kid looked like he needed a hand."

House grinned. "You're a sucker for the needy, Jimmy."

"Of course, why do you think I've stuck around you all this time?" he joked.

House cocked his head to the side. "Maybe it's my charming good looks."

Wilson felt a faint blush creeping up onto his cheeks, and he quickly turned around back to the pasta before House could see that he'd gotten to him.

"Anyway. I just want to give the kid a place to stay. It's not like we're going to be his dads or anything."

Wilson quirked a corner of his mouth. "He's just a kid, House. He needs someone."

House snorted. "Trust me; by his age… by his age, with what he's been dealing with, he's grown up more than most adults will ever have to. He'll be okay."

Wilson tossed a look at House. His head was down, looking at the table, his hands on his leg.

House looked… vulnerable. Hurt. It was hard for Wilson to see. He'd seen House like that before, and it scared him to see him like that again. Very few things got to House like this.

Stacy had been one. His leg pain, when it was at its worst, another. When he lost a patient due to a mistake _he _made.

Wilson swallowed. When he'd left after Amber, House had looked like that. His emotions stabbed once again by the people he loved, his heart torn open and tossed on the ground like trash.

"House, are you alright?" Wilson asked as gently as possible. House didn't answer. He just continued to stare down at the table with a troubled look on his face.

"…Greg?"

House shook his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to go get something."

He got up and limped out of the kitchen. Wilson winced at the amount of weight he was placing on his cane. Today was a bad day for his leg, for sure.

House sighed, frustrated, as he snagged the heating pad off of the bedside table in his room. There was no way he was going to get through this without telling Wilson at least a bit of what had gone on throughout his childhood, that was for sure. Wilson wasn't as smart as him, granted, but he wasn't blind. He'd pick up on it all too soon, and then there would be emotional hell to pay.

He limped back into the kitchen, plugging in the heating pad with a practiced movement and sitting down quickly. Wilson didn't even see the pad; he was too busy adding sauce to the noodles.

House said nothing until the food was done and Wilson was sitting across from him at the table. Finally, he spoke up.

"That kid got the crap beaten out of him by his dad," he said in monotone, twirling the noodles on his fork with disinterest. "Bruises everywhere, and a concussion."

Wilson looked at House closely. "O…kay…" he said slowly, not sure what to make of the sudden conversation. He knew something was bothering House, but it was hard to see past his walls. Apparently it had something to do with Jacob.

"Thing was, he wouldn't have mentioned it if I'd just given him some pain killers and orders to take it easy. He told me he got into a fight at school."

Wilson blinked. "Why'd you push him on it, then? What made you think he was lying?"

House's eyes didn't meet his, but their usual vibrant blue had dulled to a haunted gray. "I acted just like he did at that age. I saw myself sitting there in his place."

Silence rang in the room like the ringing one develops in their ears after a bomb blast.

Wilson felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "House… you…?"

House looked away, his countenance… strangely… ashamed. Wilson looked at him with confusion.

"Your dad, House. He… he hit you?"

House swallowed. "Did a damn lot more than that, but yeah."

Wilson wasn't sure what to do with himself. Did he give House space, or try to talk through it? If he walked away now, House would interpret that as Wilson abandoning him once again. But if he attempted to bring down his walls, House would shoot him down like a lame horse.

So he picked a medium, and sat there silently. House continued to move his food around the bowl, as if afraid to look up.

"Jacob…" House took a deep breath. "Damn. Jacob was jumpy, didn't like loud noises or unexpected contact. He was… Jesus Christ."

House felt himself choking on his own words, the emotions of the day finally catching up to him. "I don't think I can do this, Wilson," he whispered, hands clenched into fists.

Wilson placed a light hand on House's arm, half expecting the man to throw him off. To his surprise and gratitude, House let it sit. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Greg," he assured him softly. "I'm here, but you don't have to."

House huffed, as if laughing bitterly at himself. "God. It's been years. The man's dead, he hasn't touched me in years. But suddenly I feel like he's breathing down my neck again."

Wilson felt sick to his stomach. "Whatever the reason, it was lucky for Jacob that you could see what you saw. Otherwise he'd be in a lot more trouble than he is now."

House shook his head. "Takes one to see one, sometimes."

Wilson pulled his eyebrows together. "There's just one thing I don't get, House. Why now? Why tell me after all these years we've known each other? I've met your dad, spoken face to face with him. I basically took part in kidnapping you to go to his funeral. Why didn't you say anything before?"

House looked him dead in the eye, his gaze rock hard. "I've tried. You didn't really make it easy for me, Wilson. I did bring it up on the way to the funeral, but you basically crammed the words back down my throat because you didn't want to hear them."

Wilson was stunned. Had he really? The beginnings of the car trip were faint memories now, just a haze of determined silence and refusal to play House's little games. Had he abused House's trust that badly?

"I'm sorry," Wilson said quietly, removing his hand like he wasn't quite worthy enough to touch his friend. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

House blinked, his gaze softening. "I know. I'm not mad at you, Jimmy," he replied, words efficiently communicating the message that Wilson should have known that already.

He looked up and changed the subject. "I think something's wrong with the spaghetti," House deflected, his eyes closing off once again.

Wilson stifled a sigh. That was probably all he was going to get from House tonight. He got up and hurriedly turned off the burner to keep the pasta from burning.

**I choose to put the author's notes in bold because I think most people skip over italicized text subconsciously. Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the next bit of the story. Reviews feed the mind and make new chapters come faster!**

Three days later, House skipped out on work (without informing Cuddy, just to mess with her) and visited Jacob. The kid was getting ready for the trial that would officially place him in the hands of the state and send him into foster care. That's where House came in.

He'd already made the necessary calls to get the boy into his custody. It hadn't been too hard, with the connections he had. Blackmail was a wonderful thing, and the ability to lie thorough his teeth was even better. Within a few hours, Jacob would officially be in his care.

House wasn't sure how he felt about that. For one, it felt strange to know that he was going to be taking care of another person. He'd never been responsible for another living being's needs, aside from Steve McQueen and Wilson's ex's dog. Being a doctor didn't count, because he didn't have to personally feed and watch his patients, he just had to make them better.

He walked into the government building, and without pausing to look around, went straight to the courtroom where Jacob was already waiting. The last time he'd been in this building, Cuddy had been perjuring herself for his sake. Not really something he liked remembering. His leg seemed to twinge at the memory of the painful detox he'd gone through because of that stupid cop, and he rubbed it absently.

The kid was definitely having a worse time than he was, though. His eyes were huge, his face white, his hands shaking. He was sitting in the front row, hugging himself like he was freezing.

House slid in next to him, on the opposite side of who was supposedly the kid's social worker.

Jacob looked up at him, eyes widening. "You came?"

House scoffed. "Duh. What kind of potential guardian would I be if I let you sit this out alone?"

He was close enough to be touching Jacob, their arms brushing ever so slightly. The child seemed to take comfort in the gesture, and House couldn't quite bring himself to move aside like his body was urging him to do. Jacob needed some sort of support.

The trial was over quickly, an open and closed case, as far as the judge was concerned. Not only had Mr. Darning been accused by his son, his son was backed up by a world renowned doctor and medical proof. He'd also had matching injuries, sustained from using his fists to beat the crap out of his child. On top of that, the man's blood alcohol level, when the police had showed up at his house, had been high enough to kill a small horse. He'd also had drugs in his system. A bigger, more official trial would come later, to permanently remove him from his duties as a parent, but for now, he'd lost custody of Jacob and was going to be in the county jail.

Jacob was stock still when his father was led into the room, his features deathly pale. House felt sympathy stirring in him as the kid's eyes followed his father across the room.

The man shot dagger eyes at his son, the meaning clear. House glared right back, and noticed with satisfaction a flicker of surprise on the man's face.

When the trial was over, House glanced down at his phone. He'd silenced it for the trial. There were about fifteen missed calls, mostly from Cuddy and his team. Wilson knew where he was, but House had firmly told him not to say anything about it, and apparently Wilson had complied.

Jacob was shaky and looked like he was about to cry as they all filed out of the courtroom. House looked the kid's social worker up and down, while she did the same to him.

"Gregory House," he introduced himself finally, sticking out his right hand after hooking his cane on his left arm.

She took it, eyeing him warily. "Dr. House, I've been told that Jacob is already set up to be in your care."

House nodded, seeing Jacob relax slightly out of the corner of his eye. "That's right."

"Are you prepared to take him now?" she asked him frankly. "I have a lot of work to do, other kids who aren't as fortunate to attend to. If you're ready for him, he's all yours."

House hesitated. He hadn't really planned on taking the kid that instant- after all, he had to go back to work. But one look at the kid crushed his negative response. Jacob was looking at him hopefully, bags under his eyes and posture slumped. The boy was obviously emotionally exhausted.

There was something about this kid that took House's nastiness and flushed it down the drain. He wasn't sure he liked it.

House nodded, meeting the social worker's eyes.

"Great. You can go by the foster care center and pick up his clothes and things. I'll be checking up on you later this week, making sure Jacob's best interests are being met. Do I make myself clear?"

House raised an eyebrow at her thinly veiled threat. Clearly, the woman didn't think much of the scruffy doctor before her. "Crystal."

"Peachy. I'll see you later, okay Jacob?"

Jacob nodded at her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Bye Mrs. Tate."

Tate nodded and hurried away.

"Well, she's just a bundle of joy, isn't she?" House mused, turning on his heel to leave the courtroom. "Come on. I have to get back to work, hopefully before Cuddy finds her axe."

* * *

"Wait, we're riding on _that?" _Jacob asked House incredulously. "A _bike?"_

House scoffed. "Not just _any _bike. A Honda CBR1000RR Repsol. And it's a she, not an it."

Jacob looked at the man strangely. "Why is it a girl?"

House looked at him strangely. "Well, I wouldn't ride a _guy. _That would be weird."

A flicker of a smile passed over Jacob's face. "You want me to ride… her?"

House grunted his assent, handing the kid the extra helmet he kept with him. "Don't have much choice, seeing as I drove her here."

Hesitantly, Jacob put on the helmet and watched the older doctor climb onto the seat of his bike with a practiced, swinging motion. When House had clipped his cane to the side of the bike, he motioned impatiently for Jacob to get on.

Jacob warily slipped on. House kicked the bike into gear. "Hold onto me unless you want to go flying off onto the pavement!" he yelled over the din.

Jacob slowly grabbed around House's middle, but as soon as the doctor took off, he clutched the man's midsection for dear life.

House didn't mind the contact as much as he thought he would.

He silently hoped that Cuddy had taken the rest of the day of.

* * *

No such luck. He walked into the hospital and almost straight into Cuddy.

"HOUSE!" she yelled, face flushed. "Where the HELL have you been? Your team's been up my ass all day looking for you-"

House cut her off in his usual way. "I've been elsewhere, but I'm here now. So if you don't mind, I'd like to go sit down."

And he did want to sit down. The extra bike ride had done his leg no favors, nor had sitting motionless on that hard bench for the duration of the trial.

Cuddy was seething, but he breezed past her like it was nothing. It was only then that she noticed Jacob Darning trailing along behind him like a tired puppy.

"House!"

He froze, ducking his head. He'd been hoping that she wouldn't notice the kid just yet. He wasn't quite ready to explain everything to her.

She strode up to him, ignoring the growing crowd in the lobby that was watching their antics. "Why?"

She didn't need to clarify. House rolled his eyes and totally ignored the question, striding to the elevator and pressing the button with his cane. "Why won't I have sex with you right here in the lobby? Cuddy, I do have my limits. Do you know how dirty that floor is?"

He got in the elevator and watched the doors close on Cuddy's red and furious face.

Jacob cleared his throat nervously. "She's your boss?"

"Yep."

"And… You talk to her like that? How have you not gotten fired?"

House smirked. He knew that Cuddy kept him around due to a mixture of unexplainable attachment, residual guilt, and because he brought so much damn fame to her hospital with the weird and off the wall cases he solved.

"She needs me," he stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, I usually don't push her that far."

"So you just didn't want to talk about me, then."

House chuckled. This kid was sharp. "No, I didn't. Not yet anyway. You'll ruin my asshole persona."

A flicker of a frown flitted over Jacob's face. "Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

As the elevator doors opened, House shook his head. "Not as far as I'm concerned."

Page break.

House pushed open the door of the DDX room with his cane, limping in. Jacob caught the door just before it smacked him in the face and followed him in, hovering uncertainly in the background.

The team looked up from the table, where they'd been urgently discussing the case and attempting to call House again.

"House!" Foreman shouted, face angry. "Where the hell have you been? The patient isn't getting any better!"

"Yeah, well, she wasn't getting any sicker either. Do you have anything new to tell me, or did you call me fifteen times to say hi?"

Four pairs of eyes landed on Jacob, and four mouths opened, then closed.

"Uh, House?" Chase ventured eventually. "Isn't that…"

House cut him off. "No. Now back to the case."

They reluctantly discussed the case, Jacob finding a seat near House's office.

"Now go forth, and do," House commanded his team imperiously, after they had come up with a possible diagnosis. "And don't come back until something happens."

They collectively rolled their eyes and filed out. Kutner was the last out, and he stuck his head back in. "House?"

"_What, _Kutner?"

"Who's the kid?"

House's phone went off, and he checked it. He narrowed his eyes. "You know what, Kutner? He's your charge for the day. Take him with you, because the mistress is summoning me."

He turned to Jacob. "Jacob, Kutner. Kutner, Jacob. Wonderful. Now you're all introduced and crap. Jacob, I'll find you in a few hours, alright? Feel free to torment the ducklings."

With that, he limped out of the office.

"Uh, Dr. House?" Jacob questioned, sticking his head out the door.

House turned around, eyebrows up.

"Can I… you know… tell them what happened? What's going to be happening?"

House blew air out of his nose. It really was up to the kid, House couldn't make him do one thing or the other. "Only if you want to. I don't care. See you in a bit, and we'll catch a ride with Wilson. I don't want to take the bike again."

Jacob nodded shortly, his dark hair falling in his eyes.

* * *

House struggled not to grimace as he made his way down to Cuddy's office. His leg _hurt. _It had been getting worse and worse as the DDX with his team had gone on, and now it felt like it was engulfed in flames.

What was worse was that he knew that Cuddy was about to saddle him with more clinic duty because he'd skipped out on a few hours of work. Four, to be exact. So he'd probably be spending the rest of the day in the clinic. Walking around. On his leg. Exactly what he didn't want to be doing.

When he walked into her office, she confirmed his suspicions. "House, you can _not _just leave the hospital in the middle of your work day without asking permission! I can't believe you'd just take off-"

"Hold that thought," he stopped her mid rant. He limped heavily to the couch and began to sit down gingerly. To Cuddy, though, it just looked like he'd shut her up so he could relax.

"God, House! You can't even let me lecture you properly!"

House bit his tongue, and slowly and painfully stood back up. "Okay… go."

Cuddy glared at him, and launched into a rant. He stood there, not really hearing her, and leaned heavily on his cane.

Cuddy cut herself off after a few minutes, examining House's unfocused eyes. "House, are you even _listening _to me?"

His eyes traveled to her face, then flickered away. "Yep."

She examined him more closely, taken off guard by his quick response. He was practically on one leg, his right hardly touching the floor. His arm was shaking where he was holding up the weight with his cane.

Suddenly, her anger slid away. She slumped her shoulders. He wasn't trying to garner sympathy from her, but it came all the same. "House, sit down."

He complied, relief flashing across his face. He gingerly rested his hand on his leg for warmth.

"At least tell me where you _were," _she commanded, but with considerably less anger in her voice.

House didn't meet her eyes. "Justice building."

"What?" she commanded sharply. "Why?"

House rolled his eyes. She was so _slow _sometimes. "The kid, Cuddy. His dad's pre-trial was today."

Cuddy's mouth dropped open. House had _gone? House? _

"Why did _you _go?" she asked incredulously, making an effort to look like he hadn't just smacked her upside the head with a brick.

House shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I wanted to spit on his bastard of a father."

Cuddy cocked her head. House was obviously keeping something from her, and she'd be damned if she let him get away with it. "House, what aren't you telling me?"

He blew air out of his mouth, cheeks puffing. He'd have to tell her sooner or later. This wasn't really something he could keep from her.

"Jacob has nowhere to go," he revealed sullenly. "So I'm going to foster him."

Cuddy's eyes practically bugged out of her head. "You _what?_"

He just glared at her, daring her to make a snide comment.

Cuddy's head was spinning. "Why?"

"I just said he had no where else to go, didn't I?" he snapped, obviously defensive. "Wilson and I have the room."

"House," she began, an odd look on her face. "You can't take care of a _child._"

House raised his head, a haughty look on his face. "Says who? I've got plenty of money. And it's not like I'm going to be wiping his ass, he's 14."

Cuddy turned her head to look him sideways. "How in the hell did you get approved?"

"I've got some dirt on some higher ups."

"So basically, you're telling me you're taking this kid on a whim, through blackmail? And he'd going to be living with you and _Wilson?"_

House stared at her. "Yes."

She shook her head at him. "You're insane. Absolutely crazy."

Her gaze softened. "And a big softie."

House glared at her, but didn't say anything.

"House, listen to me. If he ends up needing to talk to someone… like, a female someone… I'm here."

House looked like he was about to say something nasty, but then his expression changed. " …Thanks. But that's what Wilson is for."

A flicker of a smile passed over her face, but then it hardened. "However, you still left without telling me. You're on cli…"

She looked at him, and the way he flinched protectively to his leg in an involuntary movement.

"…nic."

He sighed, then pushed himself up with considerable difficulty. He limped out of her office without another word.

That was when she knew the kid would be okay with House. If he'd take clinic duty without complaining for his sake, he'd do just about anything.

**Next chapter is Jacob's discussion with the team. It might be a while; that's a lot of dialogue. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi, guys. Listen, I know it's been a while, and I know this is a rather short chapter. I'm just getting caught up in real life issues here, not to mention band camp. Updates will come, but they might be a bit fewer in between. Sorry!**

Chase looked up briefly at Kutner as he entered the lab, then back down at the test he was performing. He idly wondered what Kutner had had to tell House, but at the moment he was otherwise occupied.

Foreman noticed what Chase hadn't. "Kutner, did House saddle you with the kid?"

Kutner sheepishly grinned at is two fellow teammates as Jacob hovered around all the lab equipment. His eyes were as big as saucers, taking in the various machines. "Sort of."

Jacob met their eyes briefly. "I'm Jacob," he offered, still looking around in silent wonder.

The three doctors blinked. "Uh, I'm Kutner, this is Foreman, and that's Chase," Kutner pointed out.

Foreman was totally distracted from the results he'd been looking at. This kid was the one that House had called in CPS for the other day. What was he doing back here?

"Jacob, why were you with House?" he asked after a long moment.

Jacob twisted his mouth, leaning against a cabinet. "He picked me up from the courthouse."

The three doctors looked at each other in astonishment. "Wait, am I missing something here?" Kutner asked, still not having been clued in about the earlier drama.

Jacob looked pained. "I was in the clinic the other day with him. He called CPS."

Kutner immediately looked sympathetic. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Jacob shrugged, but his face was full of sadness. "Yeah, me too."

"But why did _he _get you from the justice building?" Chase interjected, setting down his pipette and pushing his goggles up above his eyes.

Jacob met his eyes, a fierce look on his face. "Dr. House is going to foster me."

Foreman just about choked, and Chase nearly fell off the stool. Kutner grinned like a mad man.

"Wait, _what_?" Chase demanded. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

Jacob blinked, his left eye still slightly bruised where he'd taken his dad's punch. "How many other Dr. Houses do you have?"

Foreman laughed. "Is he paying you to say this? I bet he is. Come on, spill it."

Jacob snorted. "Man, you people don't believe he has an ounce of humanity, do you?"

Kutner was still grinning. "I think it's great. House branching out, doing nice things."

Foreman still looked incredulous. "So, wait, why did he call CPS?"

To answer, Jacob merely pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie. Healing bruises decorated his pale-ish skin.

Chase whistled lowly. "Damn."

Jacob nodded, pushing back the memory of his dad's dark, angry face. "I had a concussion too."

Chase shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. Your dad?"

Jacob blinked and nodded, feeling subdued. He was still getting used to the whole 'telling people' thing. It'd been (literally) beaten into him so much to keep his mouth shut that he found he was fighting panic.

And that's exactly why he wanted to tell them. He _could _now, without fear of bodily harm, and he was reveling in it.

"So how did House figure it out? I mean, I don't guess I'm surprised, but still. Him actually giving a crap is a new one," Foreman stated.

Jacob felt anger rising in him, but he quashed it quickly. These men had known Dr. House for a lot longer than he had. Based on his experiences, the man had a good heart. But according to his underlings, the man was an ogre.

"He just…" Jacob hesitated. He very much doubted any of them were privy to House's colorful past, and he was sure that House wanted to keep it that way. "I don't know. He saw right through my bullshit."

Chase twisted his mouth, as did Kutner. They shared a look over Foreman's head. "Yeah, we're pretty familiar with that. So no mom?" Chase asked.

Jacob swallowed. "No. Breast cancer. I was seven."

Kutner blinked, full of empathy. "I'm sorry, man. Your life seems to have been crap up till this point."

Foreman barked out a laugh. "Hell, if he's going to be living with House, it might get worse!"

This time, Jacob couldn't quite hold back a glare. Foreman was surprised at the angry look on the kid's face.

"Look, he's been nothing but… nothing but good, the past few days, alright? I don't really care what you think of him, but he's helped me."

It was true. The man had taken him out of a horrible domestic situation and was giving him a chance at a life where he wasn't constantly forced to hide his bruises. It was a relief. An enormous, scary relief.

Foreman scoffed, but he stayed silent.

"Anyway. His boss asked him to come down to her office so now I'm stuck with you guys." Jacob said, feeling suddenly awkward for telling the doctor off.

Chase looked gleeful. "Great. I bet Cuddy's giving him hell for skipping out without telling her. Four hours, we were looking for him. I bet he'll be on clinic the rest of the day."

Jacob suddenly felt guilty. It'd been for his sake that House had left the hospital. And, from what he could garner, being up and about for clinic wouldn't help his leg at all. He'd noticed him limping more heavily on it.

"Won't that hurt his leg?" he asked them, innocent.

Chase was stunned. "Uh… I don't know. Yeah, I guess. Would it?" he directed at Kutner, the specialist in the area.

Kutner nodded. It'd been one of the things he'd been surprised about, when he'd first landed the fellowship with House. Why was a man with such a severe disability being forced into so many hours of walking from patient room to patient room? But House had never complained (about leg pain, anyway), and Kutner had eventually let it go.

"Yeah, it would. But he's never used that as an excuse."

Jacob looked physically sick. "He looked like he was in more pain than the first time I saw him."

Chase and Foreman exchanged a look. This was the first patient they'd seen in a while that didn't think House _deserved _every bit of pain he ever experienced.

"I'm sure he's fine," Foreman reassured him, feeling awkward.

Jacob nodded after a moment, and the three doctors resumed their tests, unsure of how to think of their boss in light of the recent turn of events.

* * *

A young mother and her child were sitting in a clinic room, awaiting a doctor. Unfortunately for them, they were unlucky enough to draw Dr. House.

House limped in and sat down heavily on the stool, rubbing his leg. He gave the woman an expectant look.

"Well? What's wrong with him?"

The kid was maybe three or so. The woman frowned indignantly. "_Her," _she stressed.

House rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, next time, give it a bow. They all look the same at this age."

This woman decided she didn't really like her doctor, and apparently, neither did her daughter. The child began to cry loudly at its mother.

House gave it a glare that could have killed small mammals. "NO!" he barked, and the girl stopped crying immediately, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Your kid has a cold, ma'am," he said apathetically, diagnosing the child quickly. "Take it- _her,_" he corrected himself, at her glare, "home, and give _her _plenty of fluids. She'll be fine in a day or two."

With that, he got up, wincing, and exited.

* * *

House sighed as the door closed on the young child and her mother. Parents should really give children of that age more defining clothing… it was hard to tell their sex, they all looked the same.

He smirked at what Wilson's expression would be at that thought. The man already thought he was cold, that particular sentiment would only confirm his suspicions. It was something everyone noticed, but no one said out loud.

Well, that was just House. He said things that no one else would, and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the shocked expressions on peoples faces that accompanied his statements.

His smirk melted as his leg twinged angrily. He was ready to sit down. Hell, he was ready for a hot bath and a bottle of scotch. But that wasn't exactly an option, not with Cuddy breathing down his neck. She was watching him closely as he went from patient to patient, and he had no doubt he wouldn't escape for quite a while.

He bit back a groan as Cuddy strode out of her office towards him. "Mommy, I'm doing my punishment…" he whined, leaning to his left. "Don't spank me, please."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. House had worked for an hour and a half, consistently, and with little complaining. What was more important was that no one had barged into her office complaining about him, at least not yet.

She couldn't deny it, she felt for him. She'd watched his uneven gait carefully, alarmed to see it even more slanted than usual. He certainly hadn't been play acting in her office- it really was hurting more than usual today.

She sighed. "You're free to go."

His eyes lit up, then faded with suspicion. "Wait, why?"

She gestured to the practically empty waiting room vaguely. "Not that much work load. And so far, no one has come to me complaining about you."

House's eyes flickered to the woman and her child, relieved to see them exit the clinic without making a detour. "Well, that's just me, the nicest doctor on the floor."

Cuddy smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Go up to your office and take a nap or something, you look horrible."

He arched a brow. "Gee, thanks. You look smokin' yourself."

She smiled at him as he exited the clinic as quickly as his leg would carry him, and went straight to the elevator. No doubt he was going to take her suggestion to heart.

* * *

**Ok, so next chapter is House and Jacob going to pick up his things. Definitely going to be angst filled, but it may be a while in coming. Sorry for any typos, I'm exhausted from band. Four hours in the Texas sun takes it's toll, you know. So just know that any mistakes come from 'sun fever'. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Our marching show is so cool! It's a mix of classical Sibelius and Coldplay. That's why I haven't been updating as often, by the way. Band camp. **

House wanted to do exactly what Cuddy had told him (for once), but he needed to find Jacob. With nothing else to do for the next hour or so while he waited on test results, they could go to Jacob's old residence and the foster building to pick up his stuff.

He stuck his head into the lab and whistled. "Here boy," he mocked slightly, ignoring the looks his team were giving him. "We're off to fetch your stuff."

Jacob scurried out after the limping doctor, leaving the room behind. "We aren't taking the bike again, are we?"

House ignored the heads that were turning at his casual conversation with the boy. "Wilson's driving us. You expect me to drag all your stuff around on a bike? And I already told you we were catching a ride with him."

Jacob shot him a look, ignoring the stab. "Does he _know _he's driving us?"

"He's about to."

With those words, House stuck his head into Wilson's office. "Need a ride," he demanded shortly, then started to leave. He rethought it, and stuck his head back inside. "Now," he added.

Jacob followed him as he limped to the elevator and down to the parking garage. "How do you know he's coming? He could just be sitting in his office ignoring you."

House smirked at him. "Oh, he'll come. He can't resist the pull of needy."

Jacob waited with him, bemused, until Wilson showed up less than two minutes later. "House, you really should try to give me advance notice," he muttered as he unlocked the car. The three of them piled in, House sitting in the passenger seat and Jacob taking the seat behind Wilson.

"Where's the fun in that?" House questioned. "Follow the kid's directions, we're going to his place to get all his toys." Though his tone was light, his face was pulled tight at the corners as he rubbed his leg. It felt good to sit down, but now his leg was feeling restless and prone to spasm. He rubbed it in the somewhat vain hope that nothing would happen.

Wilson gave him a sideways glance that Jacob caught from the backseat of the car. The boy watched as Wilson's eyes grew concerned.

"Bad day?" he ventured eventually.

House rolled his eyes and turned on the radio. "No, just fine actually. Can we get going? If Cuddy finds out I left again she might actually kill me."

Wilson sighed shortly and pulled out. Jacob could still see his shoulders tense with worry. It amazed him that Wilson could pick up on such little clues, could care so much. House was lucky, in Jacob's opinion, to have a friend like that. And dumb for not seeing what Jacob was seeing; Wilson loved House. There was no doubt in his mind.

House had apparently picked up on it too, because a few minutes into the drive he snapped. "I can hear you worrying, Wilson."

Wilson shrugged. "Obviously your leg is hurting you, and you won't talk to me about it. Yeah, I worry."

House snorted. "I'm fine. Cut it out."

Jacob suddenly piped up from the back. "No you aren't. Stop bullshitting him."

It was a miracle that Wilson didn't careen off the road, seeing how shocked he was at the boy's words. House's face was blank; surprised.

Jacob suddenly felt like he'd gone too far, and was about to apologize, when House let out a guffaw. Wilson was suddenly laughing as well. Jacob looked back and forth between the two of them like they were insane.

"God, are you sure he isn't yours, House?" Wilson asked finally, trying to contain his latest very unmanly giggle. "He sounds just like you…"

House grinned at Jacob in the rearview mirror appreciatively. "Yeah, well. I'm told I influence those around me."

Jacob blinked. What he'd said had just kind of popped out. It would have been something he'd have been knocked across the room for just a week ago, but now, his new found guardians were laughing and joking. The thought suddenly, unexpectedly made him want to cry, but he contained himself.

Wilson eventually sobered up, as did House. He rubbed his leg ruefully. "Yeah, okay, fine. It's hurting a bit more than usual today."

"How much vicodin have you taken?"

House shot him a look. When Wilson didn't seem to be on the offensive, he calmed down a bit and answered honestly. "Probably too much. Not having much effect. It'll be better tomorrow."

Wilson appreciated the upfront answer. Jacob watched as he reached over and squeezed House's shoulder. "Okay. We'll deal with it at home too."

House nodded silently, looking out the window. The musical stylings of Pink Floyd filled the quiet of the car.

* * *

They pulled up in front of Jacob's house a short while later. Jacob sat in the car, staring out at his previous home that still held so many horrible memories for him.

It wasn't exactly a quality residence. It was far enough outside of Princeton to actually have a yard, but it was overgrown and filled with junk. Several of the windows were broken and boarded up, and the door looked battered, as if someone had tried to break in and then had decided it wasn't worth it.

Wilson got out of the car first, hands in his pockets to protect them against the cold. House stayed behind for a moment, looking back in the backseat.

He took in Jacob's pale face with a patient look. "Come on," he demanded, but surprisingly gently. "It's getting cold."

Jacob shook himself. He piled out of the car at the same speed as House, which was something, considering the state of House's leg. The two of them moved up to Jacob's front door at the same slow speed- House because of his sore thigh and Jacob because of his reluctance.

"Just gather what you want and then we'll go to the agency to get all of that, then we'll go to the flat."

Jacob nodded, lightly leaping over a pile of beer bottle glass that was sparkling amber in the weak sunlight. House crunched over it indifferently. Nothing short of a bullet was going to make him move his leg any more than necessary today.

Jacob had a key, and he stuck it in and twisted the lock open quickly. House could see the scratches all over the deadbolt; who ever normally used this was probably plastered a lot. The marks were from him struggling to get the key in the hole while drunk.

The inside of the house was even less glamorous than the outside. House looked around with a blank expression on his face at the dirty dishes, ratty sofa, and bottles strewn everywhere. The house was filthy.

Jacob was blushing furiously. He was embarrassed, to say the least, to have two accomplished (and rich, by his standards) doctors in his mess of a home.

"Well," Wilson said eventually. "It's nearly as bad as your apartment was, House."

House rolled his eyes, but Jacob relaxed. "I'll be right back."

He ran off to his room. House found a seat on one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing his leg methodically. "What a shit hole," he mused after a minute with his usual grace.

Wilson was still looking around. "I can't imagine raising a child like this."

He went to the fridge and opened it up. "Nothing but beer. And… lasagna. I think."

"You think?"

Wilson leaned back a bit. "Looks pretty moldy to me."

They sat in the kitchen for a good long minute, staring at the chaos around them.

"Was this what your house was like?" Wilson asked after a while, quietly.

House laughed, but there was an edge to it. "No, never. My dad was military, remember? He was all about order and rules. He was methodical. Not like this guy- he didn't fly into drunken rages. He was cold about it."

Wilson swallowed. He reached out and placed a hand on House's shoulder, relieved when he didn't push it off immediately. "Do you want to talk about it?"

House didn't move, his eyes burning a hole in the floor. "Not now."

Wilson felt a surge of hope. It hadn't been a flat out no, which meant House might decided to talk later. It was slim, but it was something.

"Okay."

House stood up suddenly, and Wilson's hand fell off limply. "What's taking him so long? I swear…"

Wilson knew he was avoiding the subject, but he didn't really blame him.

He limped down the hall, going towards the room with the light on. "Jacob, what are you…"

His words died in his throat as he looked at the kid standing in front of him. Jacob was staring at his stuff, arms at his sides. He looked lost. There was a duffel bag half full on his bed, but he seemed to have abandoned it half way through.

House bit his lip. "Hey."

Jacob didn't react. "Hey."

"You want some help?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice cracking. He angrily wiped a tear out of his eye. House pretended not to notice.

The room was sparsely decorated, with just a few posters that looked like they'd been ripped off the wall more than once. There was an old radio and a dresser, and a twin bed. The ceiling fan appeared to be broken. House noticed a deadbolt on the door that Jacob appeared to have installed himself.

"Sometimes that's all I could do, was lock myself in here," he explained briefly at House's questioning glance.

Wilson stayed in the hall- it was a small room- while the two of them packed Jacob's bags. He didn't have much to take.

House noticed a small, framed photo on the boy's bedside. It looked to be a younger him, with presumably his mother.

Jacob picked it up at House's glance. "My mom," he said briefly, carefully placing it in the top of one of the full bags.

House nodded. "What happened?"

Jacob looked saddened. "She had breast cancer. When she died, well, that was kind of when it started. The drinking- well, he was already drinking, but not as much. But it got out of control when she left us. The more he drank, the more violent he got."

House stood there silently, taking it in. Jacob looked grateful that he hadn't jumped in with a comment.

After all his clothes were put in the bags, he opened the small closet. House watched in bemusement as the boy dug through a pile of junk until he got to the back of the closet. His eyes widened as Jacob pulled out a guitar case.

"This… this, I had to keep hidden. He would have been livid if he'd known I bought this. My friend sold it to me a few years ago, real cheap because he got a better one."

House fought the urge to open the case and inspect it. "You play?"

Jacob gave him a half smile. "Sort of. I could only practice when he was gone, so…"

House was even more sure that this kid was worth keeping around. "I can teach you, if you want."

Wilson's eyes widened at House's earnest tone. Jacob smiled. "You play?"

House scoffed good naturedly. "Do I _play? _Hell yes, I play. Wilson, do I play or do I _play?_"

Wilson grinned. "You _play._"

"Damn straight."

Jacob laughed. "Good."

He picked up a duffel bag and his guitar case, heading to the car. House followed him, and Wilson grabbed the remaining bags and trailed behind. House was already in the car when he got there, fiddling with the radio.

"House, stop stealing my keys!"

The doctor grinned at him from the inside of the car, revving the gas with his cane. "Let's go, grandma!"

Jacob closed the trunk, giving his home one last glance before getting in the car. He wouldn't miss it, that was for sure. His world was so much bigger now.

**Now that school is starting, updates will be more staggered. Please don't murder me in my sleep. I'd really appreciate it. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took so long guys. All AP classes and Spanish 3 on top of that is kicking my ass all over Dallas. **

Picking up the backpack from the foster care center took even less time, and soon they were on their way back to the flat.

Jacob looked out the window curiously, his eyes carefully shielded. He hadn't known what he'd been expecting, but he liked what he was seeing.

They rode the elevator to the apartment, the short dings the only noise permeating the silence. House was the one to unlock the door.

Jacob couldn't help but gasp at the wide space before him. Guitars lined the wall. There was a piano in one corner and an organ in the other. It was clean and orderly, with dark wooden floors and a wall full of book cases- filled to the brim.

He edged forward hesitantly, unsure of how he was supposed to react. House watched him with a mixture of amusement and sadness.

"Your room is towards the back," he said after a moment, breaking the silence. Jacob stared at him in naked amazement.

"What, you thought we were going to make you sleep on the couch?"

Jacob blinked. "I… I don't know what I thought. This way?"

"Last door on the left."

Jacob slowly edged down the hallway, sneaking a glance at the other rooms there. One was clearly Houses- there were clothes all over the place and a spare cane leaning on the bed frame. The other was much neater, and Jacob assumed, Wilson's.

He opened the door to the last room, blinking at the size of it. It was much larger than his cupboard of a living space at his house. There were a few boxes lying around, but there was a mattress on the floor and an empty closet.

"We'll get furniture for it, obviously," Wilson added, feeling suddenly as if Jacob was not getting what he deserved. They hadn't really had time to prepare, but he still felt bad about it.

Jacob shook his head mutely. "It's…"

House pursed his lips. "Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off."

Jacob shot him a look. "What? Why?"

"Because I have about a year's worth of vacation days that I haven't used, and you need stuff. And also because I want to visit downtown."

Wilson made a quick decision. "I can as well," he offered, thinking it out as he went.

Jacob began to feel slightly overwhelmed. "Wait, you don't have to… I mean, this is fine…"

House raised an eyebrow at him. "Dude. I don't even have sheets for that thing."

Jacob eyed the twin sized mattress. "I'll miss school."

"Who cares?" House asked simultaneously with Wilson's; "We'll call in an excuse."

Jacob made a face. "You really shouldn't be spending so much money on me…"

House rolled his eyes. "Kid, we're both doctors. I've got a lot of money and not much to spend it on. Relax."

Jacob still looked hesitant. "Jacob," House said sharply, catching his attention. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

Jacob's green eyes stared into House's blue. "O… Okay."

House nodded shortly, turning around. "I have to go back to work. Make yourself at home."

Wilson smiled encouragingly at Jacob. "There're leftovers in the fridge – you can heat up whatever you want. I'll be back by six at the latest. House could be home at any time. He usually just leaves whenever he fixes his patient."

The oncologist distractedly watched his friend amble out the door. "Feel free to do whatever. The TV has cable, you can shower, I don't care. See you later."

Jacob smiled hesitantly as Wilson ran out the door after House.

* * *

When the two men had gone, Jacob edged into his room and sat down heavily on the mattress. His head was spinning. How had he gone from abuse victim to foster kid this quickly? His mind still hadn't grasped the situation.

He looked around the room and decided to try and make it presentable. He shoved the few remaining cardboard boxes in the closet and scooted the mattress flush against the wall. Then he unpacked his duffel bags into the rickety dresser and threw the empty sacks in the closet.

He didn't have much else. The picture of his mother he gently placed on the dresser. His few other possessions and his school bag he placed carefully in the closet until further notice.

The blank whiteness of the walls was starting to depress him, so he left the room and wandered down the hall. He stuck his head in the bathroom – this one only had a shower and a sink. Probably the master bath had a tub. He tossed his toothbrush on the sink and kept going.

He wanted to check out the two men's rooms, but that lingering feeling of being a snoop stopped him. He did notice a photo of a young, beautiful blonde woman in what he perceived to be Wilson's bedroom, though. Wonder what that was all about.

The living room was even more amazing under carful inspection. His stared at the guitars in fascination, recognizing several top notch brands that took his breath away. He itched to pull them off the wall and try them out, but fear of angering his host stopped him for the moment. He lightly brushed the piano keys, listening to the sound resonate through the wood beautifully.

He was pretty hungry, so he rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. He came up with a container of spaghetti and garlic toast. He dug around till he found the plates and heated both up in the microwave, trying to shake off the feeling that he was intruding. This was where he was going to be living, after all. Technically, it was now his home.

He shook his head to himself. No one would believe him. He was just too damn lucky – what other abused, worthless kid got taken in by two rich, accomplished doctors? He was almost waiting for something to go wrong, for him to screw it up so badly that Dr. House decided he no longer wanted him around.

Suddenly, he was no longer hungry. He pushed away the half eaten pasta, feeling sick.

He washed the plate and trudged back into the living room, wishing he wasn't such a pessimist.

An acoustic guitar on the wall caught his eye, and he just couldn't quite stop himself from reaching out to it. It was if his hands were moving on their own accord.

He sat down with it carefully, and strummed it. Perfectly in tune. It seemed as if House kept his instruments well maintained. He pulled a pick out of his pocket (he always had at least one) and strummed a major cord. It resonated out of the body of the guitar beautifully, filling up the entire apartment.

Jacob fell into his music. This was how he had escaped from his father. First by just burying himself in his headphones, and later by creating his own tunes. He would take it out on the roof or in the back yard, far enough away from his drunken dad to hide the sound, and play for hours.

Now he was free to do it as he wished, and he forgot everything else. All his uncertainties, all his doubts, all his fears. He was lost, and it was beautiful.

* * *

House tried to sneak past Cuddy's office, but she caught him. She clacked up to him in those ridiculous high heels and glared.

"Didn't I tell you to take a break?" she accused. It wasn't like House to avoid sleeping on the job.

"It's no fun if you're okay with it…" he whined. At her un-amused look, he sighed. "I had to take the kid to pick up his stuff."

She blinked. That was so… responsible. "… Okay," she murmured, backing off.

House looked surprised. "Okay?"

She smiled at him ruefully. "I'm not going to yell at you for doing something half way decent, House. That'd be counterproductive."

He smirked at her as he stepped into the elevator, glad to have avoided another screaming session.

His team wasn't nearly so keen on letting things go. Foreman was staring at him like he was an interesting lab specimen, while Kutner grinned like a moron. Chase smiled at him slightly.

House fixed a hard look on his face. "Let's get something clear here. Whatever you think about me and the kid, I don't care. Don't mention it to me unless you want to lose your job. Are we clear?"

Kutner looked slightly crestfallen. Chase just rolled his eyes, and Foreman did nothing.

House strode over to the whiteboard, limping more heavily than usual because of his antics that day. It was hard to believe that only one day, and not even a full one at that, had passed since that morning. He felt like he'd been up and running for a week.

He leaned on the whiteboard, and the team couldn't help but notice. The kid had been right. His leg was, apparently, giving him hell.

"So what's the status on Baldie?" he asked, referring to their shaven patient. "Blackie, you first."

The team launched into a differential. Even after House had solved it, he let them go on for a few more minutes, bantering between themselves.

Kutner was the first to think of the answer, and House watched him curiously to see if he would defend it. Before long, Chase had joined him, and it was the two of them against Foreman. He was arguing for something neurological.

"Not everything's in our heads, Foreman…" House taunted in a sing song voice. "The Olsen twin and his Indian cousin got it. Sorry. Go forth and treat, my minions."

Kutner and Chase left the room grinning, distracted from House by their victory. Foreman, however, lingered.

"House…" he ventured, looking like he was walking on glass with no shoes on. "I know I probably sound like Cameron, but is your leg hurting more than usual today?"

House snapped his gaze to him, his eyes narrowing sharply.

Foreman was not to be deterred. "It's a simple question."

House raised an eyebrow, curious in spite of himself. "Though I'm not sure why it's any of your business, yes, it is."

Foreman shrugged. "To be honest, the kid called it. I just wanted to see if he was right."

House smiled halfway, shaking his head. "He's pretty observational. Though apparently he's got diarrhea of the mouth."

Foreman hesitated. "You know… I'm sure if you just told Cuddy, you wouldn't have to come into work on days like this."

House frowned. "Foreman, listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. I deal with this everyday, all the time. Just because it hurts a little more than usual doesn't mean I'm going to stay home and cry about it while watching sappy romance movies and eating ice cream."

He limped over to his office. "And besides, Cuddy already gave me a free pass to sleep the rest of the day. So, while I appreciate your weird – and frankly disturbing – concern, butt the hell out."

Foreman smiled as House closed his office door and relaxed in his chair, pulling out his headphones and closing his eyes. No matter how annoying he was at times, it was still rather refreshing to not have to deal with boring pleasantries from the man.

* * *

House and Wilson ended up coming home together. Wilson had come to check on House's progress later in the day when he was about to leave, and, upon finding him asleep, woke him up and informed him he was taking him home.

House had looked up at him blearily, eyes fuzzy from sleep. He'd rubbed his thigh absently, then, shocking Wilson, had stuck his hand out for assistance.

Wilson had taken it quickly, afraid it would be retracted if he waited too long. He helped haul House to his feet.

House shook himself, and then did something so un-House-like that Wilson was stunned. He clasped Wilson's arm with his own, and did a lightning quick, nearly missed, one armed bro-hug. Had Wilson not been there, he wouldn't have believed it.

House was out the door by the time he clawed his way out of his stunned stupor. "Uh, House?" he asked, catching up with the diagnostician. "What the hell was that?"

House shrugged. He looked… uncomfortable. "You were there with me today with Jacob."

Wilson recognized the unsaid thanks. "Of course," he murmured, touched. "Of course I was."

House looked deeply unsettled, embarrassed even, as they walked slowly to Wilson's car. "You didn't… push… you didn't try to fix me… you were just… there. And… I'm glad. So there."

Wilson smiled softly at House, and then grasped him in a hug of his own – a much longer and more loving one. He loved the smell of the man, the dark, warm, spicy scent that was House.

House hugged back, if slightly. He pressed his arms together with a tiny bit of pressure, as close to a bear hug as he could – or at least would – get. Wilson could feel the man's cane pressing slightly into his back.

Then the moment had passed, and they were getting into the car. House got into the passenger seat without much grumbling. He didn't really mind leaving his bike at the hospital- he wasn't going to be riding it any time soon. There was snow blowing in, and one legged, sleep deprived diagnosticians, two wheeled vehicles, and ice did not mix well.

The car ride to their apartment was short and uneventful. Wilson pretended that he didn't notice House struggling out of the car, taking extra time with his briefcase so he had an excuse to wait.

House frowned at the rapidly cooling weather, his gaze flickering over the gently waving autumn leaves. "I hate the cold," he mused as he turned around, not facing Wilson.

And he did, too. He used to revel in it. As a college kid, it had been the perfect time to jog, ski, skate, sled, whatever. He'd loved the sharp tang of rotting leaves and frigid air that nipped playfully at his lungs when he was gulping in air, the tingling sensation of defrosting after coming inside after a long day roughhousing in the snow, the flush on his cheeks that made him feel alive.

Now, it was different. Now he hated it- feared it even. Cold meant hell for his leg in the morning, night – any time he stayed still for too long. It meant aches and pains that came with the uneven weight distribution of someone that walked with a cane. It meant being confined to the car, unable to feel slightly less crippled on his bike. It meant snow, it meant ice. Treacherous things that could easily slip him up and force him onto his ass, onto his bad leg, into hell. He hated the cold now as much as he had as a kid – locked outside in it by an angry father, or forced into a tub of it as punishment.

House shook himself as he entered the foyer, blinking. Wilson was by his side, looking at him worriedly.

House shook his head and sighed, getting in the elevator.

Wilson unlocked the door this time, pulling back his arm to toss his briefcase and coat down. House's lightning quick hand on his arm stopped him.

Wilson froze. "Listen," House hissed, eyes suddenly aflame.

Wilson listened.

Someone – Jacob – was playing guitar. House cocked his head and listened intensely, his face interested.

Even to Wilson's untrained ear, the kid sounded pretty fantastic. House stalked forwards after a moment, curiosity flickering through him like fire.

Before long they were both watching Jacob, who had his back to them. He was strumming the guitar and singing softly, almost inaudibly. House watched him, fascinated.

"He _can _play," House murmured softly, leaning forward. "This kid's fourteen…"

Wilson suppressed a smile, watching House curiously. He seems _alive_, for the first time in a long time. Wilson has seen that look before, when House is really into one of his own musical pieces, or in the depths of a puzzle, or, sometimes, when House is looking… at _him. _

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he almost missed what happened next.

House cleared his throat, letting his presence be known. Jacob jumped about a mile high, already stammering apologies.

"I'm s-sorry," he stuttered, putting the guitar on the couch and scrambling away from it. "I d-didn't – I mean – I –"

House held up a hand. "Jacob, calm down."

Jacob stills himself, eyes still flicking wildly. He looks like a raccoon caught in a trap.

House slowly sat down, and Wilson realized with a start that he's making himself as least threatening as possible. He set his hands on his lap carefully, leaving them loose.

"Really, kid, it's fine," House said, his voice surprisingly soothing. "If you can play it – which you can – I don't mind you using them."

Jacob still looks unsure, fearful. He is unused to being able to make mistakes without fear of pain. "Are you sure?"

House nodded, a slight smile on his face. "You're not bad, by the way. You taught yourself?"

Jacob finally seemed to relax a bit. "Yeah, pretty much."

He looks at House with guarded eyes. "You said… that you could teach me more. Will you?"

House looks thoughtful. "Yeah. At first I was just… well, not being polite, I don't do that. But now… you have potential. A lot of potential. I'm not going to let that go to waste."

House unexpectedly turned the conversation to Wilson. "Right, Jimmy?"

Wilson smiled at Jacob, trying to look like the sane one. "Right."

Jacob looked just a little more relaxed after that, and House smiled at him challengingly. "Go get your guitar, and give me mine. Let's see what you've got."

Wilson smiled at Jacob's face lit up. He shook his head – maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. It seemed to be softening up House already.

**D'aww. Next chapter is the shopping trip. Review? No? ... Okay...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Again, sorry for the wait in updates. School. Ugh. SCHOOL. **

House finally set down his guitar, leaning back and stretching out his shoulders. Wilson had gone into the kitchen to cook dinner some time ago, and now it was just him and the kid.

He wasn't bad, House had to admit. For having taught himself, the kid knew quite a bit. Add to it that his guitar wasn't all that great and he _still _sounded good, and you could color House impressed.

"You're alright, kid," House mused, closing his eyes comfortably. Now that he was seated and immobile, his leg wasn't bothering him so much anymore.

Jacob grinned. He could tell House was pretty amazing himself, and he was eager to learn from him. "Thanks."

House opened one eye, raking it up and down the kid's guitar. "Your guitar is pretty cheap but you make it work," he said slowly.

Jacob knew a compliment when he heard one, and he was glowing inside.

"So, you play piano too?" Jacob asked after a moment, eyeing the baby grand in the corner.

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

House closed his eyes again, trying not to move around too much. "Harmonica, trumpet, and saxophone. And organ. I wanted a drum set, but Wilson put his foot down on that one…" he said wishfully, sighing.

Jacob grinned. In some ways, Dr. House was too old for himself. In most others, he was a teenager.

"So, what exactly do you do?" Jacob asked, curious. "I mean, I know you're a doctor, but you've got your own people, your own office…"

"I'm a diagnostician," House explained after a moment, wincing as his leg suddenly twinged. "I solve cases no one else can."

Jacob turned his head to the side. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Does that make Wilson Watson?"

House grinned even as his leg bit at him. "I'm the one with the cane, unfortunately."

In that moment, Wilson came back into the room. His apron made him look like some bizarre version of a house wife.

"Dinner's ready," he said, quickly disappearing back into the kitchen.

Appetite long since resorted, Jacob got up quickly to go eat. But when he didn't hear the clunk of House's cane (which he was quickly becoming used to) behind him, he stopped.

House was still on the couch. He hadn't moved an inch. Jacob bit his lip uneasily, taking in House's closed eyes and stiff posture.

"… Dr. House?" he ventured after a moment.

"Just House, kid."

"… House, then. Are you okay?"

House sighed. "I'm fine. Go eat. Tell Wilson I'm not hungry."

Jacob nodded, backing into the kitchen.

"Wilson, House says he's not hungry."

That set off warning bells in Wilson's head. "Sit and eat, Jacob. I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

Jacob nodded and dug into his meal, hoping Wilson would fix House. He hated seeing the man in pain, especially after all he'd done for him in such a short amount of time.

* * *

Wilson hurried into the living room. "House, you have to eat."

House shook his head mutely. His leg was really starting to gnaw at him now, like a starving dog at a scrap of meat on a bone.

Wilson gently sat down beside his friend, lightly laying a warming hand on the offending muscle. House stifled the urge to jump back from the contact, wincing as his leg snapped at him.

"Do you just not want to get up?"

House let out a shaky breath. "I pushed it too hard today. If I try to move now it'll spasm for sure. And I don't want to deal with that with the kid around," he confessed. His unusual honesty was from necessity. If he dealt with it quickly, the kid would be none the wiser.

Wilson tried to keep the worry out of his eyes. "Do you want me to just bring you something?"

House looked faintly green. "Nauseous. Don't want anything."

Wilson closed his eyes for a moment. He leaned into House, trying to share his warmth with the suddenly rigid man.

To his shock, House leaned back. He rested his head on Wilson's shoulder, taking forced, even breaths.

"How bad?" Wilson demanded, knowing that it had to be nasty if House was relying on him without any nasty comments.

"… Getting bad," House confirmed.

"I could give you a shot of morphine and you could take a hot bath, try to ease it out," Wilson suggested, trying to keep his tone flat and even.

House was still for a long moment, not meeting Wilson's eyes. When Wilson said nothing, he nodded slowly. "That would work."

Wilson quietly got up and pulled out the emergency morphine supply. After he'd come home and found House curled up in a non-responsive, shaking ball, he'd kept it on hand. They'd never had to use it until now – in fact, the one time since then that House had gone through breakthrough pain, he'd refused it.

Wilson was pretty much past believing that House was an addict. On the months he'd been without vicodin, he'd been in so much pain he could hardly function. Wilson had observed his friend closely after Mayfeild – and he'd been alarmed at what he saw. Clearly, House's needs weren't being met. He lost weight rapidly, was weak, got sick. When he went back to vicodin, Wilson was more relieved than anything else. House would have died more quickly without it then he was with it.

Ever so slowly, he pushed the drug into House's system. House relaxed as it was absorbed, his eyes sliding closed.

"House, come on," Wilson prodded him gently. "You wanted a bath, remember?"

House nodded sleepily, finally relaxed by the lack of pain in his leg. Wilson helped him into the bathroom slowly, inwardly glad that the morphine made him more compliant to assistance. If House hadn't been on a morphine high, Wilson would have drawn back a nub when he helped him off the couch.

House did draw the line at the bathroom door, however. He pushed Wilson out with his cane, planting it on the oncologist's chest and shoving him lightly out the door. He shut it, but, to Wilson's relief, left it unlocked.

* * *

Jacob looked up as Wilson trudged back into the kitchen, a worried look on his face.

The young man put his fork down. "Is House alright?"

Wilson shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "He's okay now. Just having some issues with his leg."

Jacob chewed his food thoughtfully. "Does he often? Have issues with it, I mean."

Wilson hesitated, biting his lip. He sat down and folded his hands.

"His pain, Jacob… it doesn't… go away. It's chronic. It's always there. Sometime's, like now, it's worse."

Jacob looked saddened. "That's awful. He told me that he had an infarction in the leg. That's what caused the pain?"

Wilson sighed. He wasn't quite ready to dive into the whole Stacy ordeal with Jacob just yet – that was House's story to tell, if he ever did. "Yeah."

Jacob was silent for a long moment, thinking his words through carefully. "House told me you two are just friends. But…"

Wilson was taken aback. "But what?" he asked, curious as to what the kid's answer would be. Was his attraction to the man that obvious?

"It seems like… it's more than that. To me, anyway."

Wilson laughed as his earnest expression. He decided to be totally honest with the kid – there was something about him that Wilson trusted inexplicably. "I might feel that way, but I doubt House would ever return those feelings."

Jacob shook his head. "Have you seen the way he _looks _at you?" he insisted. "I can guarantee you he feels something."

Before Wilson had a chance to react, Jacob paled. "I'm sorry. It's not my place to say anything," he fumbled, scooting back a bit. He looked wary of Wilson.

His reaction pulled at Wilson. "Jacob, you can speak your mind here. God knows House does. You telling us what you think isn't a bad thing."

Jacob swallowed. "Maybe not here… but it certainly was there."

Wilson couldn't help himself – he was a hugger. He squished Jacob in a bear hug, ruffling his hair. Even after so little time, he already genuinely liked the kid. "Jacob, that's over now. Always tell us what you think. And if you want to talk about anything – just tell us."

Jacob nodded into Wilson's shoulder, taken aback by the hug. It'd been a long time since human contact came with compassion, and not with pain. He wasn't used to it.

* * *

The next morning came late. House enjoyed sleeping in for once – the morphine had dulled his usual morning ache. He lay in bed for a long moment and enjoyed the faint sounds of Wilson cooking in the kitchen. He could already smell pancakes cooking and coffee brewing. His and Jacob's chatter filtered through the walls faintly

He ambled into the kitchen in his PJ's, yawning.

"Wilson, you doll," he said groggily, sitting down at the table heavily. House was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination.

Wilson grinned over his shoulder, in tandem with Jacob. "And good morning to you too, House. Pancake?"

House made an affirmative grunting noise, and a stack of hotcakes was passed over to him. He drowned them with syrup and dug in.

Jacob at his pancakes slowly. "Do you two always eat like this?" he asked, watching House shove forkfuls of hot, buttery batter into his mouth.

Wilson answered for them. "I don't always cook, but with you here we'll probably eat out less. Why do you ask?"

Jacob blushed. "It's just that I've kind of been fending for myself for a while, back home. I'd decided that home cooked meals were just on TV," he explained sheepishly.

House gestured at Wilson with his fork. "Meet Mrs. All-American Housewife. And yes, that's a pun. Wilson enjoys cooking."

Wilson eyed House. "You can cook as well a gourmet chef – you just choose not to, you turd."

House chose to respond by noisily chewing on another sticky bite of pancake mush.

* * *

Before long they were on the way to go shopping. Ever the planner, Wilson had a list.

"Okay, so first you need some new clothes," he stated, insightfully ignoring any embarrassment that that might have held. Jacob fingered his ratty hoodie's sleeves, shame faced.

House caught his eye in the rearview mirror. "It isn't your fault your dad spent his money on drugs and beer instead of you."

Wilson shot him a glance, unaccustomed to the kindness. House shrugged, not meeting Wilson's eye. "What? It isn't. When I was growing up, dad was against me being in band. So I had to have a shitty saxophone that hardly played, had to constantly bum reeds off of people, never had private lessons or money for fieldtrips. My band director helped me, and we're helping you. Don't be ashamed to accept free money, that's my philosophy."

Wilson smiled. On impulse, he reached out and took House's hand with the one that wasn't holding the wheel, squeezing it.

Jacob's words came rushing back to him when House lightly returned the pressure, only his eyes betraying the hard emotions that came with that memory. He stared out the window, but didn't remove his hand.

Jacob witnessed their hands, and smiled to himself.

* * *

They arrived at the department store not long after, and the three of them were in the men's section in no time.

"What about this?" House said, holding up a pair of skinny jeans with black and red flames all over them.

Jacob was trying hard not to let the revulsion show on his face. "Uh…" he hesitated, trying not to offend House.

House grinned, laughing. "Relax, kid," he said, tossing the pants back on the rack. "I'm not that fashion blind. Wilson's the one you have to worry about."

Jacob laughed, liking the feel of it. He hadn't laughed in a long time.

Wilson protested. "House, you're telling me _I _have no fashion sense? You go to work in jeans and tee shirts!"

"And you love it!" House shot back, and Wilson had to give him the point. House would look odd if he dressed professionally all the time.

Before long they had some new clothes picked out for Jacob, skinny as he was, and some new shoes.

He eyed the check out price with a sick look on his face. "Listen…" he began, but House cut him off.

"Shut it, Jacob. This is the most fun Wilson's had in weeks."

Jacob obliged.

* * *

Next up was a Rooms-To-Go. "Go pick out a bed, a desk, and a dresser, and we'll have them shipped home," Wilson told him kindly, going to sit next to House on one of the love seats near the front of the store.

House was kicked back, watching the customers idly. "That kid looks like he just got smacked in the face with a bat," he mused, eyeing Jacob as the child looked at the furniture hesitantly.

"He's overwhelmed, House," Wilson explained. "You saw what he came from. You think his dad ever did this for him? Give him a break."

House pressed his lips together. "He reminds me of me so much, Wilson. It's scary."

Wilson wisely chose to stay silent.

House leaned back, rubbing his nose. "We're going to have to talk about _feelings_ soon, aren't we."

It was a statement, not a question. Wilson grinned ruefully. "Unfortunately, yes, I think that would be best."

House closed his eyes. "Wilson…"

Wilson waited for him to finish, on the edge of his seat.

"… Never mind."

Wilson leaned back, disappointed.

* * *

Next up was a surprise from House. "We're going to the music shop," he announced after none to kindly commandeering the car from Wilson.

Jacob sat up in his seat. He'd only visited a real music shop once, and he hadn't bought anything but a few picks. "Really?"

House nodded. "Really. You're guitar needs new strings," he said bluntly, "And you need a tuner and some music. I've got amps and such at home."

Jacob was grinning ear to ear in the back seat, looking like five year old that had been promised ice cream. When they pulled up, he leapt out of the car and practically ran into the building.

House followed, much the same spark in his eye. He knew the owner of this particular shop, and he always got good prices on anything he got. That's what came with saving the guy's wife from a rare bacterial illness.

"Hey, Garrett!" he called, much to Wilson's bemusement. Wilson was lost in House's musical world – normally, he just went along for the ride. "Need some acoustic strings!"

A graying, balding man with a rather large belly appeared from the back, adjusting his thick glasses. "House, nice to see you again. Been a while, how are you?"

House grinned. "Aw, just had a quick stay in the loony bin. They told me I was unfixable."

Garrett nodded sagely. "No surprises there. Here it's been same old same old. Patricia's been as healthy as the day she walked out of the hospital."

House nodded, limping to a case full of harmonicas. He began to speak musical jargon that Wilson had no concept of, so he drifted off and looked around.

"What's with the kid?" Garrett asked him bluntly, thumbing over his shoulder to point at Jacob. He was currently drooling at a blue electric guitar.

House leaned on his cane, choosing not to look up. "He's got some talent, Garrett. Guitar. I'm trying to teach him."

Garrett seemed satisfied with the answer. "What's his guitar like?"

House looked up at him finally. "Piece of shit. I'm looking to get him a better one. Have anything good while he's distracted?"

Garrett looked thoughtful. "Well, I do have one… You're looking for acoustic, right?"

House nodded, and Garret hurried into the back. He returned with a case and laid it on the corner, opening it up with a flourish.

Inside laid a beautiful acoustic. Its body was a deep blue in the middle, fading to black around the edges. It shined iridescent in the light, giving it a magical glow. It's neck was dark, it's tuning pegs a deep gold. The note marks were gold also, and all together, it was a pretty impressive specimen.

"Looks nice, but how does it play?" House asked, picking it up with a musician's hand.

As he strummed it, he got his answer, but Garrett responded anyway. "Like a dream."

House grinned. "I'll take it. How much?"

* * *

Jacob stared at him, open mouthed. "You're kidding."

House rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed. "No, not kidding."

Jacob took the unopened guitar case reverently. "You just… bought this?"

"No, I stole it. Run," House joked. "Come on, put it in the back and get in. You can drool on it at home."

Jacob carefully set the case in the trunk, excited to see what it looked like. He couldn't believe House had gotten him a _guitar. _Who did that? Went out and got a guitar for someone they'd spent less than three days with?

The instant they were home, Jacob scurried to the trunk and pulled out the case. He was practically hopping from foot to foot on his eagerness to get inside.

"Calm down, kid," House said gruffly, but there was a sparkle in his eye. Jacob did his best to stay still, but he was quivering.

He rushed to the couch as soon as the door unlocked, hurriedly unlatching the case. House watched him from the doorway, an amused look on his face.

Jacob sucked in a breath. "Wow…" he breathed, lightly fingering the strings. "It's beautiful."

House recognized the huger the kid's eyes held. He'd felt much the same way the first time he'd bought himself a piano – much to his father's displeasure. But damn it, he'd been living on his own, as a grown adult. It was his decision, not his father's.

Jacob picked it up reverently, strumming a chord timidly. The sound of it resonated like an angel's song.

Jacob looked up, catching House's eye. "This… this is beautiful," he expressed quietly. "Thank you."

House looked slightly uncomfortable. He was unused to gratitude – it wasn't something expressed very often around him. "Don't mention it."

Jacob sent his old guitar case a glance. "I know that this one is much better… but I don't think I can get rid of my old one. It was just… so much help, you know? Is that okay?"

House grinned, gesturing to the guitars on the walls. "You think I've ever given up one of mine? Once you have it, you're instrument is yours forever."

House ambled to the closet, pulling out a wall mount guitar stand. "We can set this up in your room, and you can keep your old one on it. The new one can stay in here."

Jacob swallowed, looking suddenly overwhelmed. "Thanks," he choked quietly, suddenly subdued.

Wilson felt it was his time to step in. He sat down on the couch next to Jacob and patted him lightly on the back. "Jacob, we want you to feel comfortable here, okay?"

Jacob nodded, but stopped, and shook his head half way through. "I just don't get _why. _I'm not worth anything. I'm just a loser kid with a dad that was abusive. I'm not special, I'm not interesting. What's in it for you?"

House felt a pang in his heart. No doubt, those sentiments had been drilled into him by his father just as House's had done to him. "You aren't worthless," House said quietly, startling Wilson. "You deserved better than you got. And now we're giving it to you."

House suddenly shifted his tone. "And now, dinner. Wilson, order pizza."

Wilson nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. What do you want, Jacob?"

Jacob could already feel his mouth watering. "Meat Lovers."

House grinned. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

**Review, my lovely flowers, review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**My life has been hell in a hand-basket lately, and this was set much farther back on my mental priority list than I would have liked. **

The next morning, Wilson was up early. The furniture would have to be set up today, and he wanted to have it done by the end of the night. First things first, though, he had to make breakfast. House wouldn't function without it.

House, much to his surprise, was already up. He walked into the kitchen to find the man sipping at a black coffee and reading the newspaper.

"House, why are you up?"

He finished reading the sentence, and then looked up. "Woke up early. I made breakfast."

Wilson blinked. It looked like a small bomb had gone off in the kitchen, but there was a stack of pancakes on the counter next to a tray of eggs and sausage.

Wilson shrugged and filled his plate, scooting in across from House. He chewed, thinking.

"You're leg's bothering you," he deadpanned, watching for House's reaction. House stiffened, the newspaper fluttering a bit.

"No it isn't."

"Yeah it is. Otherwise, you wouldn't be up, and you wouldn't have cooked."

House took a deliberately long sip of his coffee, avoiding Wilson's eyes.

"Has it gotten worse lately?" he continued, ignoring House's silence.

House set his coffee down lightly. "It's just the weather, Wilson."

"Aha! So it is bothering you."

House frowned. "Didn't you just come to that conclusion?"

"I was guessing. But you confirmed it for me, so thanks."

House scowled at him as Jacob trudged into the kitchen, his hair messed up and his clothes wrinkled. "Morning," Wilson called, and Jacob held up a hand lazily. He practically fell into a chair and rested his head on his hands, closing his eyes.

He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Most of the time he should have been sleeping had been spent thinking, worrying. Now, though, he was dead tired.

Wilson fixed him a plate of food without comment, watching him closely. It looked as though neither of them had gotten much sleep that night.

"You sleep alright, Jacob?" Wilson asked nonchalantly, focusing on the boy so he wouldn't miss his body language.

Funnily enough, it was very similar to House's. "Yeah, I slept fine."

Wilson shook his head. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, letting it go for the moment. It seemed like Jacob was already House's kid, with the way he ignored emotional problems.

Suddenly, his mouth twisted, and he turned away from the table to hide his expression. Wasn't the reason that they both did that linked to childhood trauma? House had said himself that no show of emotion had ever been allowed in his house. He wondered if it had been the same for Jacob. These two were more alike that he'd previously thought, and it equally intrigued and repulsed him. He hated to think about it that way, but, in spite of himself, he _was _curious. Would watching Jacob give him an insight into House's head?

"Wilson," House said, sounding annoyed. "Wilson!"

"What?"

"I called your name like five times," House said suspiciously, squinting his eyes at his friend. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Wilson tried to keep his expression neutral. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about trying to get all this furniture put together, it's going to be a long day."

House shrugged. "Come on, it can't be that difficult."

Wilson smirked. "If I remember right, _someone _has a seeming inability to read and or follow simple instructions when putting together furniture, so it might take longer than you think."

House narrowed his eyes at him, while Jacob tried to stifle a snort. "Fine then, boy wonder, you can do it yourself. I'll supervise."

* * *

And supervise he did. Throughout the afternoon, House sat himself in a comfy chair and watched his friend attempt to assemble various furniture items with growing amusement.

"Wilson, that screw doesn't fit," he taunted, pretending to read a trashy magazine.

Wilson gritted his teeth, counting backwards from ten in his head. Ironically, this didn't seem to help much. It was rather like a rocket launch being counted down. Or maybe a bomb blast.

10… 9… 8…

"Maybe you should just get a nail gun, and skip all this screwy business," House said with a smirk. "I know it's hard for you, Wilson."

7… 6… 5…

"You know what? Forget nails, you might, I don't know, shoot yourself in the foot. Let's just superglue everything together."

4… 3… 2…

"Maybe if I superglued the instructions to your forehead – "

1.

"ENOUGH!" Wilson erupted, tossing down the instructions. They fluttered away unsatisfactorily, so he stood up and kicked a screwdriver across the floor for good measure. "Dammit, House!"

House seemed absolutely unfazed by his outburst, but Jacob was another story. Both men turned to see him pressed up against the wall, eyes wide.

The anger flooded out of Wilson in an instant, and he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach. "Oh, Jacob, I didn't…" he tried, taking a step closer to him.

Jacob scrambled away from Wilson and out the door, his heart pounding. He was all too familiar with that kind of senseless rage, and it never ended well for him. The only thought in his mind at this point was – _get away._

* * *

House, quicker than Wilson thought possible, was out the door and after Jacob in an instant.

The front door was wide open, and House cursed. The boy had bolted. Not even sparing a breath to tell Wilson where he was going, he limped as fast as he dared out the door.

He got out the front just in time to see Jacob running around the corner.

He cursed again. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly take off running after the kid.

He tapped his foot, frustrated, his jaw set.

* * *

Wilson was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, when House got back. Without a word, the diagnostician began putting his backpack together.

"Where is he?" Wilson asked miserably.

House visibly kept himself from exploding on Wilson. As much as he wanted to, he knew that Wilson would never have done something like that intentionally, and that the oncologist was already beating himself up over it.

"I don't know. You stay here in case he comes back. I'm going to go look."

Wilson nodded, looking like he was about to be sick. House didn't have time to reassure him. He threw his phone, wallet, and some granola bars in his bag and was out the door.

* * *

House slammed the palm of his hand on the steering wheel, his frustration mounting. He'd been all over town, looking for a brown haired skinny kid in a hoodie, but nothing had shown. It'd been almost three hours.

His phone rang, and, sighing, he pulled over and answered it.

"What?" he snapped, at his wit's end. Worry, in spite of what he'd tell anyone else, had begun to consume him as the hours ticked by.

Wilson sounded wretched on the other end of the line. "No sign of him?" he asked, sounding like he was going to break down.

"…No," House sighed after a moment, forcibly calming himself down. "Not yet."

Wilson was silent for a long moment.

"House, what if you – "

"I will," House snapped, cutting him off. "I'll see you soon."

He hung up the phone, pulling out.

"Now, if I were a freaked out 14 year old, where would I go…"

Jacob would probably want to be somewhere quiet, calming, secluded… somewhere he felt safe.

He pondered for a minute, and then took a chance.

* * *

House limped into the local library, somewhere he'd never spent much time before. If he wanted a book, he could buy it. Not to mention the fact that, if he ever had checked out a library book, it had long been forgotten under piles of papers and research in his old apartment.

He adjusted his hat as he walked in, his eyes scanning the sparse population among the shelves.

Something caught his eye, and he limped over. With an enormous, breath-taking sense of relief, he saw Jacob curled up on one of the scattered padded chairs, his eyes focused on something distant and his arms crossed over his chest.

House closed his eyes for a moment, and then limped over to Jacob. He sat down next to him. The kid didn't even look up.

House picked up his cane, and gently prodded Jacob in the shoulder with it. He whipped into attention, instantly tense. House saw with a small amount of panic that his face was tear streaked.

Jacob looked at him in disbelief. "House? How did you…?"

"Took a wild guess," House summed up.

Jacob wiped the remaining tear streaks from his face. "Why did you bother to even look?"

House rolled his eyes. "You think we'd just let you run around on the streets by yourself?"

Jacob shrugged. "I've been doing it since I was nine. It isn't that big of a deal, I can take care of myself."

House looked skeptical. "Really. What have you eaten since breakfast?"

As if in response, Jacob's stomach growled, and he blushed.

House tossed him a granola bar, ignoring the acid look he received from a prune of a librarian. He waited until Jacob had started eating before he began talking.

"Wilson would never lay a hand on you, Jacob," he said eventually, looking at the ceiling. "He couldn't if he tried."

Jacob swallowed thickly. "I… I know that. It was just…"

"Instinct kicked in," House finished for him.

Jacob nodded, fidgeting with the granola bar wrapper. "I couldn't even begin to calm myself down, or think through what I was doing. It was just… a flight instinct."

House was silent for a long moment. "Well… I wish I'd known where you flew to, kid."

Jacob looked stricken. "I know I shouldn't have taken off like that. I'm sorry, it's just what I'm used to."

House nodded silently. "Not that I don't love the library and everything," he said after a moment, "But can we go home now? My leg hurts. And Wilson is about to pull his hair out."

Jacob unfolded himself from the chair, following House quietly out the door. To say the very least, he was ashamed and embarrassed, but with each passing moment, at least the embarrassment was fading. House didn't seem to find odd at all that he'd taken off. In fact, he seemed like he had expected it.

"I'm sorry," Jacob said miserably as he got into the car. "I didn't mean to make you go all over the place like that."

House shrugged, flipping on the radio. He was relieved that he'd found the kid, but his leg was really screaming at this point, and he just wanted to get home. Curiously enough, he wasn't upset with Jacob at all.

"You're fine," he said, gruff but kind. "Just try to let Wilson know that you aren't afraid of him, please, or the guy's going to worry to death."

Jacob slid farther down into his seat. "I'm not afraid of him," he muttered. "Just of how he was acting…"

House spoke up over his musings. "We're going to have to watch our tempers, then, aren't we."

* * *

When they got back inside, Wilson half stood up, hope in his eyes. When he saw Jacob, there was simultaneous relief and fear crossing his face.

House stood back, watching curiously.

"Hey," Jacob said awkwardly. "I know you didn't mean to freak me out… I'm sorry that I took off like that…"

His cheeks were beet red. Wilson stood quickly. "No, no, Jacob. That wasn't your fault, it was mine. I shouldn't have lost my temper and yelled like that, I should have been more careful."

Jacob visibly relaxed with each word that Wilson spoke, his tense muscles releasing their grip on him. "It's okay," he said, and the words broke.

Wilson was in front of him instantly, hugging him in both love and apology. Already, this boy had wormed his way into the oncologist's heart, and he hated that he'd hurt him in any way shape or form. Jacob was already crying, sniffing on Wilson's shoulder. The doctor couldn't have cared less.

**Maybe the next update will come sooner than this one did...**


	10. Chapter 10

**If the thought of House and Wilson together (together-together) doesn't fly with you... fly away, dear reader. Fly to a Huddy fic, because this certainly isn't one. **

House smiled slightly at the picture, but his leg was the one that needed attention right now. He limped as best he could to his bedroom, trying to keep all the weight off of the offending limb. As gently as he could, he lay in bed, a heating pad over his leg, and tried to relax.

* * *

Wilson stuck his head in House's room an hour or so later. House looked up from the magazine he was pretending to read, setting it down over the heating pad on his leg. No need to add to Wilson's guilt complex by advertising the fact that his leg was hurting.

Wilson sat down on his bed slowly, looking like he was trying to formulate a sentence. "We need to talk," he finally said a moment later, looking afraid at the very thought.

House sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "About Kim Kardashian's boob job? She _so_ had work done."

Wilson was not amused. "Where did you find him?"

"The library."

Wilson blinked. "Why did you even think to look there?"

House sighed. This was going to be a long talk. "It was the first quiet, safe place I could think of."

Wilson looked surprised. House's genius continued to amaze him. "I never would have looked there."

House shrugged. "I have a bit more experience in these matters than you do."

He frowned when Wilson's face fell. "Hey. Stop," he commanded, kicking his friend lightly with his good leg.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, not having to ask what House was talking about. "Sorry. It just depresses me. I never even… I mean, I knew you and your dad didn't really get along, but…"

House kicked him again. "Ow!" Wilson yelled indignantly, rubbing the spot where House had kicked.

"Stop." House commanded. "I don't want to talk about this right now.

"House, you can't just avoid this. It isn't healthy to keep it all bottled up like this…"

"Then I should be dead by now, I've been doing it for the last 45 years."

"It's a wonder you _aren't _dead!" Wilson exploded, tossing his hands up in frustration. "You're life hasn't exactly been a bucket of roses, House."

In his anger, Wilson had jerked the bed – and therefore, House's leg. House swallowed, lowering his eyes away from Wilson's accusatory glare with hurt on his face, and not all of it physical.

Wilson melted when he saw that look, and the way House gingerly placed his hand over his leg. His friend wasn't the untouchable man he often thought of him as. House had emotions too – some of them were probably even more fragile than normal people's.

"House, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"Yeah you did," House cut him off bitterly. "I'm screwed up and I know it. You didn't have to tell me."

Wilson placed a light hand on House's knee. "You aren't screwed up. You've just had different life experiences than most people. All I'm saying is, talking helps. If we sort through some of the damage your dad did to you… maybe we can stop it from happening to Jacob."

House continued to stare at his lap.

"We don't have to talk about it tonight," Wilson said after a long moment of silence. "I'm not going to force you. But I do think it's important, alright?"

House shrugged.

Wilson sighed, removing his hand. "Tomorrow we have to finish Jacob's room. I'll... see you in the morning I guess."

House said nothing, and Wilson walked toward the door. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but what came was not it.

"Wilson." House grunted quietly. Wilson did a 180.

House didn't saw a word, but his face conveyed his message clearly. Wilson could see the inner turmoil in his eyes, the memories the last few days had brought up. He could see the need there.

Wilson nodded. "Just let me get Jacob settled. I'll get us some dinner, and… I'll be right back."

He'd hit right on the money, because House relaxed immediately. He nodded slowly, looking back down at his magazine.

True to his word, he returned minutes later. "I set Jacob up with a movie and some leftovers."

House set his magazine down, taking the plate from Wilson as he sat down on the other side of the bed and handed it to him. House picked at the food, the forks of the two men clicking against the plates in the silence.

House, as usual, was the first to break it.

"The first time he hit me, I was four," he stated, deadpan. "I was crying because I'd somehow gotten the ball over the neighbor's fence. Apparently, my inability to articulate the reason why I was upset pissed him off."

Wilson was frozen, afraid to make a move for fear of making House stop.

"When mom got back from her 'girl's day out', he convinced her that I'd fallen, and that was what had bruised my face. She bought it without question. By that point, he'd told me that so many times that I believed it, too."

He remembered that day. He remembered the red plastic ball sailing over the fence, the crying to his father, who was supposed to fix everything; the moment his annoyance transformed into rage and hate, and the feeling of pain and betrayal as his dad's fist knocked into his cheek. He remembered the way his tears had become silent, how he'd fallen on the floor only to be yanked up by a slightly panicking dad, who drilled into him for the next three hours how he'd fallen while trying to climb over the fence. He remembered his mother's face, how'd she'd cooed and nursed the bruise until it was gone, how she'd commented continuously how he was such a big boy for not crying.

He remembered it all, in stunning detail. That was his curse. The pain of it had not faded with time.

Wilson's hand on his shoulder startled him, food flinging off of the plate as he jerked. He could have cared less about the rice on his sheets, though – Wilson's touch had brought him back to the present.

He took a deep breath, setting the plate on the night stand. He couldn't eat when his stomach was flip flopping like this. "That was the only time I've seen him panic like that. The rest of the time he was cold about it, calculated. He'd lose it sometimes, but afterwards he always stood there and let me deal with it."

Wilson set his plate down as well, and faced House. His brown eyes were full of love and compassion. No words were needed.

And then suddenly, they were kissing, and neither man was questioning the other or themselves, and neither rice in the bed-sheets nor pain in the thigh could possibly have stopped the inevitable.

**Not even gonna try to lie this time. The next update is gonna be a while. Review, dear readers? The more I get, the more my guilt will motivate me...**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'd like to say, I will mention sex, and I have no problem with raunchy jokes, but I'll never do outright smut. BTW, I'm updating this fast because I want 42 Mulder to eat! No fair, by the way...**

**Update - a very helpful reviewer pointed out a spell check error. Thanks, OldSFfan,**

House woke up… comfortable. Warm and content. He lay there for a second, not thinking, not trying to puzzle out anything, just reveling in the complete feeling in his stomach that he hadn't felt in years.

Then, of course, his mind woke up, and he opened his eyes to the amber sunlight and the red sheets… and Wilson's body curled up next to his own, his shoulders under House's arm.

The night's memories came rushing back to him. House let the feelings wash over him – the joy, the love… the fear. This was, presumably, the next relationship he was inevitably going to screw up. Then, he'd not only be dumped, but he'd also be friendless. That was the price he had to pay with a wild night with his only friend.

For the moment, though, he was content to shove the pessimistic thoughts out of his mind, and hug Wilson closer to him. He nestled his chin in his lover's hair, smelling the slightly girly shampoo Wilson liked.

He could hear the slight noises of Sunday morning cartoons coming from the living room, so Jacob was probably already up and fending for himself. There was no need to move from this spot, this moment in time. If he could just stay here…

Wilson, of course, chose this moment to wake up. He yawned, then nuzzled closer into House's arms. It was like they'd been sleeping together for years instead of one night.

"Morning," Wilson said groggily, still in that post sex haze. House smirked. He knew what he could do to another person, be it man or woman.

"You just had to wake up, didn't you," House muttered, scratching his scruff on Wilson's neck to irritate him. The man just laughed and squirmed, waking up.

"Quit…" he protested, chuckling, as he wormed his way out of House's grasp and out of the covers. House admired his lover's back in the sunlight.

"Go cook me some breakfast, woman," he commanded grandly, smirking as Wilson found his pants and underwear from the night before.

Wilson just rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah. We're still going to finish that furniture," he said, as if the night hadn't been extraordinarily revolutionary, as if it was totally normal that House was admiring his ass. Which, it seemed, it was. That was one of the things House loved about Wilson; he was able to accept his insane ways in a snap. Unlike everyone else, who just couldn't seem to follow him.

Wilson turned back, smirking. "Shower and then come out, and I'll have something ready."

"You didn't mind my manly musk last night," House half joked, but Wilson's cheeks flushed red and he turned around quickly. House smiled to himself as Wilson hurried to the kitchen.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, he was eating oatmeal at the table with Wilson and Jacob. Jacob kept sneaking glances at them and grinning, then ducking his eyes back into his bowl when one of them would look up.

House finally sat his spoon down. "What?" he demanded.

Jacob laughed. "Did you two have fun last night?"

Wilson blushed furiously red, his mouth open in shock. House just laughed heartily.

"Come on Wilson, it's not like you were even trying to be quiet."

Wilson was gaping like a fish. "Oh, my gosh… Jacob, I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…"

Jacob just waved his hand good naturedly, laughing along with House. "Oh, please. I'm not some innocent ten year old. You think my dad didn't have his share of girlfriends? I'm not new to it… and besides, it was about time you two stopped dancing around each other. Am I right that this has been going on for a while?"

House was still grinning as Wilson nodded slowly in amazement. This kid was more like House than he'd thought. That same intelligence was in his green eyes, that same spark at having figured something out. It was alarming, to say the least.

Wilson swallowed, looking down at his breakfast. The transition with House, he felt, had been simple. They'd just taken the next step that both of them knew was coming. But for some reason, Jacob knowing was just… embarrassing. Not even because he was with another man. More because Jacob seemed to young to even be thinking about those kinds of things.

"Oh relax, you prude," House said, getting up to dump his bowl in the sink. "If you're upset about that, wait until we have an all nighter at work…"

Wilson was blushing with embarrassment, and also, lust, as House limped to Jacob's room.

* * *

Several hours later, the room was finished. Jacob tossed himself down on his newly made bed with a content sigh, closing his eyes. House smirked, and Wilson nodded happily at the finished room. It was much more kid friendly now, with a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a book shelf. Wilson silently planned to fill that shelf as soon as possible.

As if reading his mind, House spoke up. "So when is your birthday anyway, kid?" he asked, leaning on the door frame. Last night might have been fun, but it'd done no favors for his leg.

Jacob replied without opening his eyes. "February. Twenty seventh."

House nodded, and committed it to memory. He was good at memorizing stuff like that, even if he didn't act like it. He'd never forgotten Wilson's birthday, even if he didn't bother to mention it until Wilson dropped some not so subtle hint. His was, in fact, the day before, on the twenty sixth.

"That's right next to Wilson's," House mused aloud, enjoying the startled look that the doctor in question gave him.

"Is it?" Jacob asked, though he sounded distracted. His eyes were big, staring up at his ceiling.

House walked out of the room, sensing that Jacob needed to talk to someone that wasn't a cynical ass. He vacated to the living room.

Wilson had picked up on the same thing, and sat down on the bed next to his new charge. "Anything the matter?" he asked gently, half expecting the same sharp rebuttle he would have gotten from House.

Jacob shrugged, staring at the ceiling. That was another thing he and House seemed to have in common – the answers for them in uncomfortable emotional situations were inevitably on the ceiling.

"I have to go back to school tomorrow," he said glumly, his hands clenching. Though his tone was light, Wilson could see the tension in his body.

"Why is that a bad thing?" he pressed, ever so careful.

"Kid's are going to notice. I look different. And not just the shiner, either," he explained, twisting his mouth. "I've jumped up about three social classes, just by dumping that damn hoodie and getting new shoes. Kids don't like other kids encroaching on their domain."

Wilson was again startled by Jacob's insight. "Oh, Jacob. Things are going to be fine. It may be tough at first, but you'll adjust."

Jacob shrugged, not entirely convinced. "You don't get it. I'm pretty sure you were popular in high school. House was probably the bad ass, cool dude; you probably got all the chicks. I'm nobody. People think I'm just rude because I don't want to socialize – that isn't true. I just… can't. I don't like… getting hurt. And any friends I had I would have constantly had to lie to anyway."

Wilson winced. Jacob was more like House than the kid realized. House, too, didn't try to form relationships, because he was afraid of the pain that he associated with them. It made him wonder if House was already afraid of their new intimacy ending, if he was already dreading what he saw as inevitable.

"You can't live your life like that, Jake," he began. "You have to put yourself out there. I know that you dad hurt you. But not everyone is like that. There will be good times along with the bad, no matter what you do. But if you distance yourself from everyone, you're going to regret it."

Wilson ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'm not saying you have to pour out your life story to the first kid you meet. But put yourself out there."

Jacob sighed, closing his eyes, but Wilson could see that some of the tension had left his frame. "Yeah."

* * *

Back in the living room, House was playing piano, trying not to think. It was a bit of a futile pursuit, since his head never seemed to stop working.

Wilson. Wilson was going to want to talk through his childhood, piece by terrifying piece. And as much as he hated to admit his fear, it was there. He did _not _want to talk about it. He didn't even want to think about it. He'd spent the last 45 years trying _not_ to think about it.

And yet.

He knew he would, for Wilson. If that was what it took for him to stay. He didn't want to lose his only friend. He'd gone his _dad's _funeral for the man, the one place he would have chosen clinic day for fat old people with std's over. If Wilson wanted to try to fix him… he'd do it. He knew when his need went over his fear.

His hands faltered, a sour note fouling up the piece. He stopped playing, rubbing his eyes.

He didn't like this. This… emotion. Emotion, attachment – that meant pain. Pain was something he'd had quite enough of. And it wasn't just Wilson he was attached to. The kid. Jacob. He'd already wormed his way into the group of people House could call friends – a very small club. Jacob didn't have the capability to destroy his world, like Wilson or Cuddy did, but House cared for him. He didn't want anything to happen to him. And if there was anything he'd learned as a doctor, it was that bad things happen to all kinds of people, no matter how much someone cares about you.

He knew that his fear was irrational. He was getting paranoid about what normal people dealt with just fine every day of their lives. But change frightened House.

Suddenly, Wilson was sitting next to him on the piano bench. House was stiff and still, his hands still over his eyes.

"Jacobs worried about getting bullied at school," Wilson revealed without prompting, sighing. "Apparently he isn't the most popular kid."

"Of course he isn't," House said bitterly. "No one wants to be around the emotionally damaged one."

Wilson heard more than what was on the surface in that particular statement. "House…"

"Don't," House pleaded, his shoulders slumping. "Just… don't."

Then, Wilson did something that amazed House. "Okay. We don't have to talk about it. Wanna watch a movie?"

House froze, blinking. He turned to stare at Wilson.

"What?"

"You just let it go. Just like that. Who are you and what have you done with Wilson?"

Wilson grimaced. "I don't want to force you to talk about something you aren't comfortable with. I know I haven't been… great… about that in the past… but I don't want to screw this… us… up. And I'll respect your privacy. Just know that when you are ready, I'm here."

House swallowed, looking away. Wilson thought he saw a flash of emotion in his lover's eyes that he rarely allowed to show. Sure enough, when he spoke again, his voice was slightly unsteady.

"I was ready to cave, you know that? If that's what it took to keep you around."

Wilson felt sick to his stomach. "House. You don't… have to _change _for me. I love _you. _Not your problems, not your back-story. _All _of you. You don't have to… give up, or… _feed _my need to be needed, to keep me around. I'm not gonna _leave _you if you don't do exactly what I want, when I want it."

House blinked several times, and Wilson could definitely see moisture in his eyes. "I just don't want to drive you away, Wilson. I'm obviously not so great at keeping them around."

Stacey. Wilson cringed just thinking about what House's last serious relationship had been like. "I'm not Stacey. I can handle your mean side, and I've seen your loving side. There really isn't much you can do to change the fact that I want to be around you for the rest of my life. I mean, I tried to leave before, and look at how that worked out."

House smiled faintly, but there was still a faint worry in his eye.

Wilson leaned into him, hugging him close. He was relieved when House didn't push him away. "Call me out if I'm pushing, House. Don't think you have to do anything you don't want to to make me stay. You don't have to… to work, for this. I promise."

House said nothing. He just turned his face into Wilson's shoulder and sighed.

**Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews last time, even after I waited so long to update. I'll try to update AT LEAST once a week from now on...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Finally, a new chapter...**

Later that day, the three of them were watching the credits of a movie pass by in a comfortable silence.

"Let's go eat," Wilson said suddenly. "I mean, go out. Somewhere good."

House rolled his eyes, muting the TV. He looked from Wilson to Jacob silently. Jacob's expression sealed the deal – he was looking excited at the prospect.

He leaned forward over his cane, dropping it and letting it bounce thoughtfully. "Where?"

Wilson grinned. He knew that, under normal circumstances, House would have rejected the thought immediately, preferring to stay home and have someone deliver. But Jacob was quickly becoming his soft spot.

Wilson shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Jacob, what are you in the mood for?"

Jacob looked taken aback at the question. "Me?" he asked, pointing to himself.

"No, the other Jacob," House said sarcastically. "Yes, you. What do you want?"

The boy looked taken aback. "… Well… What's good?"

House rolled his eyes, but Wilson just laughed. "Well, there's all kinds of stuff around here. Italian, sea food, that burger joint – that isn't too far – uh, there's that Mexican restaurant… Chinese…"

Jacob's mouth was watering already. He was unused to so many choices when it came to meals – usually, he ate what he could scrounge together in the house or just didn't eat at all. That was why he was so skinny – three meals a day was a luxury he literally couldn't afford.

He smiled brightly. "Mexican, please."

Thirty minutes later, and they were on the way to El Sombrero. "House, stop messing with the radio while you're driving."

House ignored him, continuing to fiddle with the bass and treble settings with one eye on the road. "Ah, worry wart. There isn't even any traffic."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm not letting you drive anymore if you aren't going to pay attention.

House scoffed, but he obliged, putting his hand back on the wheel. Wilson was catiously amazed – House normally didn't give in like that.

He just about peed himself when House jerked the wheel sharply, wrenching the car sideways and then back onto the lane.

He was laughing uproariously at Wilson's angry expression. "Not funny!"

Jacob was snorting in the back seat, enjoying the banter. It was, again, something that he'd had little experience with. He remembered when his parents had been together, but they'd been nothing like these two. They'd been reserved, politically correct and socially acceptable. His dad had been a repairman and his mom a teacher. Not high up on the social scale, not living the rich dream, but pretending like they were.

Of course, that had changed fairly rapidly after his mom had died.

The car turning brought him back into the present. They'd pulled up in front of a small, brick building, with a tiled roof and a large, florescent sombrero on top.

"We have arrived," House said somewhat dramatically, unbuckling and sliding out of the car. Jacob followed the pair closely, looking around.

It was… homey. A small business restaurant that was probably family-run. The smells of the tortilla chips and peppers were already making his mouth water.

Soon, they had their meal, and were chatting amiably. House and Wilson were discussing their favorite all time clinic cases, and Jacob was listening intently.

"Once," House said, laughing as he gestured with a tortilla chip at Wilson, "Once, I had this old man who had somehow gotten his dentures glued to his mouth, and together. It took me twenty minutes to even figure out what was wrong with him – he couldn't talk!"

Wilson laughed, and Jacob felt a sense of comfort at the sound. All at once, he was comfortable and full and happy, three things he had not felt at the same time in years. He smiled at his two new favorite people and leaned back, enjoying their voices even more than their words.

* * *

Jacob went back to school the next day, and House was given time off work by Cuddy to go to the school and set up the paperwork. Jacob needed a change of residence and guardian, both things that House had to go to the high school for.

He'd driven Jacob to school, and they were now sitting outside of the slightly imposing building. House was slightly nostalgic, reminded of his own high school days.

"Well, come on," he said after a moment, opening the door and sliding out. He was halfway to the door before Jacob could even make his legs work.

Truth be told, he was petrified at the thought of class that day. His black eye had faded, not even noticeable unless you knew it was there, so he wasn't worried about that. He _was_ nervous about the questions that would follow his obvious improvement in monetary status - and, now that he thought about it and saw kids staring at House and his cane - the questions that would follow his odd new guardian.

House wasn't fazed by the paperwork, but Jacob hadn't expected him to be. What he did find horrifying – and slightly hilarious – was the fact that House was returning every curious look that the faculty and students were giving him with a face that could have made a mime laugh out loud. He was grateful that House was trying to be lighthearted, but he knew that questions would still follow.

House was thinking the same thing. _If only Wilson could have done this, _he thought to himself, signing his name yet again in an untidy scrawl. _If the kid wasn't being bullied before, he will now, what with an old cripple as his legal guardian. _

House then spent the day at work wound up and tense. He wouldn't admit it, but he was thinking about Jacob. Wilson was, too, and they spent lunch silent and contemplative, neither man very hungry.

None of his ducklings had the courage to ask questions, which House was grateful for. He didn't have the energy to come up with fifty different sarcastic answers to fifty different pointed questions.

Taub, back from his vacation, was left totally out of the loop. He was perceptive enough to know that _something _was going on, but none of the other fellows had felt the need to fill him in just yet – not with House hanging around so closely.

Cuddy had no such restraint. During a lull in the day, with all four of his employees out and about, Cuddy had knocked at his door and come in. She had to clear her throat twice before House noticed her sitting there.

"What?" he asked, distracted by something on the computer. He glanced at her quickly, then back to the screen.

"Pause your porn and pay attention," she demanded.

House made a face at her, but turned away from the monitor. "You're prettier anyway," he leered, but his gaze lacked sincerity.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. How's the kid?"

House blinked. "Well, he was a little tough, but Wilson cooked him for a while longer and added some cream of mushroom-"

"House!" Cuddy barked, exasperated. "Seriously. How's it going?"

"I'm not seeing how that's any of your business," he deflected, turning back to the screen.

Cuddy cocked her jaw and leaned around the desk to see what he was so interested in. It looked like a website for background information.

"Who's life are you trying to ruin?" she asked, letting the subject of Jacob drop for a moment.

"Always assuming the worst of me, aren't you?" he muttered, still focusing on the screen.

There was a moment of silence. "I'm looking for someone."

"For what?"

House finally turned to her, scowling. He turned off the computer screen, crossing his arms. "Don't you have parking spaces to assign?"

Cuddy ignored the jibe. "I'm not going till you tell me how it's going with Jacob."

House assessed her silently, his eyes calculating. After a long moment of quiet, he spoke.

"It's okay so far. Only one major breakdown so far. Kid's got some serious gun-shy issues."

Cuddy leaned back. "What do you mean, major breakdown?"

House felt that he could share what had happened with Cuddy, so he did. It was that same inexplicable feeling of trust he'd shared with her that had caused her to let him administer the IVF treatments when she'd been trying to get pregnant. Next to Wilson, she was the only one he could comfortably speak of his life with.

"So you pushed Wilson into blowing up, and the kid ran off. Very mature."

House scowled at her. "Yes, I realize it wasn't the most brilliant thing in the world. It won't happen again. But that isn't the point. He's obviously got some pretty deep issues."

Cuddy could hear the worry under his tone, and she sat down on the desk. "Did you think he wouldn't? He was abused."

House shook his head. "I _knew _he would. I'm just not sure how to even begin to fix them."

Cuddy swallowed thickly. Seeing House like this, so worried and protective of another person, was both unfamiliar and heartwarming. "Well, you could start by stopping pushing Wilson's buttons," she half joked. When House glared at her, she dropped the jokes and continued. "You probably don't want to hear it, but counseling would do him a world of good.

House looked pained, and turned his monitor back on. He gestured to the screen when it pulled back up.

"I'm checking out different therapists, for him."

His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Though, if he goes, Wilson is going to want me to find one too."

Cuddy furrowed her brow. House had already been checking out counseling options? She suddenly saw him in a new light – saw how he'd matured since Mayfield. Though, as far as she knew, therapy with Nolan hadn't stuck after he and Wilson had made the decision for him to begin vicodin again, at least House didn't seem to hate therapy all together. He probably wouldn't admit it, but Nolan had helped him.

He seemed to read her mind. "I don't think that all therapists are evil soul sucking monsters. Just because I stopped seeing mine –"

Cuddy cut him off, waving her hand. "I know. I didn't think you did. And you know, I think therapy would do you good too," she added earnestly. "Not a drug therapist, another one."

House looked a bit pained. "You know, I never talked to you about going back to Vicodin. I just – "

Again, Cuddy cut him off. "Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Wilson and I already talked. And from my account, your levels have gone down exponentially."

House looked mildly amused. "You were keeping tabs on me?"

"Did you expect me not to?" she shot back. "I know you're taking other things, with a lower level of Vicodin. It's no where near dangerous levels – not like what you were taking before. I'm not upset with you."

And she wasn't. When Wilson had come to her home, panicked and tense, and had explained to her how much pain House had been in the weeks after Mayfield, she'd given in rather quickly. If _Wilson_was defending House's Vicodin, there was no questioning to be done.

House looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "Cuddy, if I ever get to the point… where I'm hallucinating again, or even slightly losing it… I'll stop. I'm not going to put you through that again."

There was such sincerity in his voice that Cuddy believed the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. In many ways, Mayfield had torn down the walls that House had spent so long building up. Even if he had relapsed, it didn't mean it was for nothing. Now, he could be painfully honest with her, when he chose to be.

She gripped his arm and squeezed, saying nothing.

* * *

Jacob tried to be invisible at school that day. He kept his head down, skipped lunch in favor of the library, and hugged the walls. He was praying to himself, pretty much constantly, that his appearance would remain unnoticed, and that the rumor of his new guardian had not spread.

Of course, it had. As he'd walked to class from the library, his hands in his pockets and his head down, someone had tripped him. He's landed face down, trying and failing to catch his fall with his hands.

"Nice upgrade, dipshit," the freshmen bully sneered, looking down at him as he struggled to get off the floor. The commotion had already attracted several onlookers, who were hoping for a fight to liven up the day.

Jacob said nothing. The boy tormenting him, Garret, hadn't left him alone since fifth grade, when he'd accidentally spilled milk on the boy's head after tripping in the lunchroom. He'd had to pay for it by being constantly tormented from that day on.

Once he'd pulled himself off of the ground, he tried to walk away. But Garret jerked on his backpack, spinning him around.

"I _said, _nice upgrade, dipshit," he taunted, as if Jacob hadn't heard him the first time. "Who'd you steal it from?"

Jacob didn't want to fight Garret; he had enough problems. "Just leave me alone," he attempted, trying to sound braver than he felt. In reality, he could already feel shivers of anxiety running down his spine.

Garret sneered. "You wimp. Who was that guy with you this morning? He looked like a weak little shit too, limping like that."

Jacob suddenly grew furious, and stood up straighter. "Shut your fat mouth, Garret," he ordered, gaze darkening.

Garret looked gleeful. "Oh, so the little pussy finally grows a spine! What, did I insult your cripple friend?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes. Slowly, methodically, he shouldered off his backpack and dropped it to the ground.

Garret continued as if nothing had happened. "Is he messed up in the head, too? Cuz that's the only reason I can think of that he'd want to be around your sorry ass-"

Suddenly, fists were flying and they were rolling on the ground. "Shut. UP!" Jacob yelled, punching Garret hard in the nose. Years of pent up aggression mixed with a new found fury for House's honor were pouring out in that moment, making him see red.

Scores of students were around them by now, chattering excitedly. Jacob didn't even see them, he was so focused on hurting Garret.

Unfortunately, Garret was still a lot bigger and stronger than Jacob. After the smaller boy had gotten in a few hits, Garret came back with a vengeance, kicking Jacob off of him and socking him hard in the forehead. "Get off me, you freak!" he yelled, still amazed that Jacob had started the fight at all.

Before either boy could get in another hit, they were being pulled apart by intervening students. Jacob couldn't feel it, but blood was dripping down his face where Garret had hit him. Even high-schoolers had a limit, and when blood appeared, it was time to end the fight.

Both boys were breathing hard, Jacob fighting the other two boys who were holding him back. Everyone watching was amazed at Jacob's behavior – from what people knew of him, he was quiet and shy.

In the typical fashion of high schools, it was only after the fight had ended did a teacher show up – a male coach, who escorted both boys to the office. Jacob was taken to the nurse to take care of the cut while the assistant principle called his recently changed legal guardian…

**Sorry for the slight cliff hanger. And the delay. And anything else you're unhappy with me about. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Ba-bam! Update!**

House's cell phone rang, the normal ring indicating an unfamiliar number. He broke off in the middle of the differential to glance at it.

Frowning at the local area code, he answered. "Dr. House," he said gruffly.

"Uh, hello, Dr. House. This is Principle Gillian from Willowbrook High, your child's school?"

The woman on the other side of the line seemed unsure of herself, put off by his gruff tone.

House stood up, gesturing to the ducklings to continue as he walked into his office.

"Okay. Why are you calling?"

Outwardly, he sounded a bit impatient, but inwardly, he was already running possible explanations through his head.

"I'm just calling to inform you that Jacob was caught fighting today at school."

House's mind rushed through a million responses. Surprisingly, the first out of his mouth was, "Is he okay?"

"He's alright. He's got a few bruises and a cut on his forehead, but nothing serious."

House relaxed, surprised at himself. He hadn't even realized he was worried.

"I'm calling to tell you that a mandatory meeting is in order to discuss his behavior, today if possible."

House swallowed. How was he supposed to deal with this sort of thing? If only Wilson could go – but then again, Wilson wasn't technically Jacob's guardian.

"Would you like to set up a time?" the woman asked, taking his silence for acceptance.

House shook himself. "I can be there in…" he glanced at the whiteboard, "Thirty minutes."

The woman sounded surprised. "Oh. Well, alright. Jacob is in the nurse's office right now."

"Where's the other kid?" House demanded suddenly.

"He's in the office as well. They both will be until a punishment is worked out."

House frowned. "Fine."

He snapped the phone shut, turning back into the DDX room. "Well, kiddies, duty calls. Run an EKG and poke him till something happens. I'll be back in a few hours."

* * *

The fellows watched, perplexed, as House rapidly limped away.

"Duty?" Taub questioned, glancing at the other three. "What does that mean?"

"Probably the kid," Chase answered briefly.

Taub looked supremely confused. "Kid? What kid?"

The three of them shared a look.

* * *

House walked into Wilson's office without knocking. "Jacob got into a fight," he announced unceremoniously.

Wilson looked up in shock from the file he'd been scribbling in. "What? At school?"

"Yes, at school. The principle wants me up there to discuss it. I need parental advice. What would a responsible adult say?"

Wilson was still in slight shock. "How did _Jacob _get into a fight? He doesn't seem like he could even…"

House shook his head. "Not the point. What do I do here Wilson?"

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "Well obviously you can't be too hard on him…"

"Obviously…"

"And you need to hear his side before anything…"

"Well, duh…"

"Don't embarrass him, but don't act like he isn't going to be punished… be stern, but not angry…"

House looked frustrated. "This is stupid," he admonished, standing up. "I'm going and I'm gonna play it by ear."

Wilson stared at him as he walked out. "Good luck," he said to the empty doorway.

* * *

House called Cuddy on his way out of the hospital. "I have to go somewhere for a few hours," he said, feeling that the least he could do was let her know after disappearing so often the last week. "I have to take care of something at Jacob's school."

Cuddy suppressed a sigh. He hadn't exactly asked politely, but at least he'd let her know. "Okay. Let me know when you're back."

He hung up and pulled out of the parking lot, making the drive to Jacob's school in tense silence. How was he supposed to react to this? He had no experience in the area of parenting. His dad was obviously no example – the times he'd fought in school had ended badly if he'd won, worse if he'd lost. And Jacob was probably already expecting some horrible punishment, with what he'd had to deal with from his father.

House closed his eyes briefly, sighing. Why had the kid been fighting anyway? Wilson had said that Jacob was worried about being bullied. Had another kid started it, or had Jacob thrown the first punch? House knew it probably shouldn't have mattered to him, but it did. He'd never started a fight in school without a good reason.

He pulled into the school's parking lot, limping out of the car. Unlucklily enough for him, the school was in passing period, and he attracted many a whispering stare as he took the short walk to the office. Obviously, the rumor of Jacob's new guardian had gotten around with the gossip that a fight brought.

The first thing he saw was another, much larger kid sitting in a chair with an icepack on his nose, his other arm crossed over his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the kid – he looked like a bully. Already, he was giving Jacob the benefit of the doubt.

"Dr. House," he said, when the receptionist gave him a questioning gaze. "Here for Jacob Darning."

The kid sitting in the chair was watching him sharply as he waited, and House turned to meet his gaze silently. After a moment, the kid looked away, trying to be nonchalant.

Principle Gillian soon waddled her way out of an office, delaying any plans he had to "accidentally" cane the kid. She gestured to him with a pump arm to follow her. He complied, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to be doing.

She stuck her head in what he supposed was the nurse's office, telling Jacob to come on out and follow her.

House tried not to overreact at the sight of a bandage on Jacob's forehead and a bruise already forming around it. Jacob refused to meet his gaze, gulping and staring at the ground with pallor to his skin.

House swallowed. The kid looked like he was preparing to get hit. As the corpulent principle waddled in front of them, he lightly brushed Jacob's shoulder.

Jacob flinched, eyes widening, away from House's hand, and House looked at him sadly. Embarrassed, Jacob blushed furiously and tried not to cry, blinking back tears. "Sorry," he whispered, the word catching in his throat.

House shook his head, trying to look clam, and Jacob relaxed slightly. He'd have to watch that – unexpected touching when the kid was stressed was a bad move. Slowly, he reached out, while Jacob was watching him, and squeezed his shoulder for reassurance.

They sat down in the office, Jacob perching on the end of his chair like he was preparing to make a run for it. House spun his cane back and forth, impatient to get started.

The principle seemed to sense his irritation, and launched into speech. "I had a coach report to me earlier today that Jacob and another student were having a physical altercation outside of the library. From the injuries and what they've told me, it's obviously true."

She paused, and when he continued to say nothing, continued. "We have a zero tolerance policy here at school. The best case scenario is three days of in school suspension, or detention. The worst case is suspension for the week. I would be going a lot harder on you, Jacob, but this is the first time you've ever broken school rules. You've been a good kid up until this point."

House looked at Jacob curiously. "Why were you fighting?" he asked, but gently. He was freaked out enough as it was; he didn't need either of them jumping down his throat and demanding an explanation.

Jacob looked down, swallowing. "He started it."

"Elaborate," House said shortly, to the point.

"I don't want to talk about this," he whispered, pale in the face. By this point, he was hugging his knees, his face turned sideways. House could see more than a trace of panic in his eyes.

"Jacob," the principle said firmly, her little lips pressed together. "What you tell us may change your punishment. I'm prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt on this – you have no history, he does. But you can't think that staying silent will help you."

Experienced as he was with years of lies and cover stories, he was able to look her in the face when he lied. "He tripped me, and was making fun of me," he said, leaving the shots at House out of it. "And he pulled me back after I tried to walk away, and I just… snapped."

He stopped short at saying he was sorry – because he wasn't. Not at all. Garret deserved that punch in the nose, and a lot more for that matter. But he didn't want to tell either of them the reason he'd blown up – because Garret had been making fun of House.

House, of course, could see the deception as clear as day on Jacob's face. Something was up, something the kid didn't want to say. But House was prepared to wait. There was no reason to make the kid talk in front of the stupid assistant principle.

Unlike House, the principle seemed to accept his answer without question. "Well. I think that a few days of ISS will be enough. I don't want to see this kind of fighting again, Jacob. Unacceptable, no matter what your reasoning is."

She looked at him, then at House. "Jacob, could you go in the hallway and give Dr. House and me a moment please?" she asked, already moving on.

Jacob looked mildly sick, but he nodded and backed out, closing the door behind him.

The woman looked House up and down. "I understand that you are fostering Jacob," she said, her voice even but sharp. It sounded like a well practiced tone.

House nodded, pushing down his irritation with the woman.

The woman continued. "I hope you'll be a good influence in his life. This is the first time, like I said, that he's ever even made a blip on the system. Please help him to make the right choices," she said sweetly, but House could see the barb at his skills as a guardian under her words.

He wasn't about to be trifled with. "I'm sure you mean well," he said back, just as sweetly, "But the kid that mine punched in the nose deserved to have the shit beat out of him, and you know it. Furthermore, I'd rather Jacob stand up for himself than be trampled, which is obviously what you and your staff have been allowing."

He leaned in on his cane, his tone even but his posture aggressive. "If I get any reports from him – any at all – that he is being bullied or unfairly treated, and no staff is bothering to get off their asses and do something about it, there will be hell to pay."

The woman blinked rapidly, stunned into silence. Her mouth was formed into a little "o".

"And another thing?" House added as he stood, unable to resist. "I'm taking Jacob home today, where he'll give me the full story. And that will be his _only _punishment – he doesn't need one from you. The kid's had a shitty life up until this point and he doesn't need you making it any more difficult. So there will _be _no detention. And from what you've told me, the other kid had _better _be out of school for at least a week. He obviously instigated it and has apparently done so in the past. If I hear that the correct path was _not _taken, I'll be having a long talk with the school board."

Without pausing to hear her response, he limped out the door and jerked his head at Jacob, who was sitting on the chair outside. His argument would have made Cuddy proud.

"Come on kid," he said. "We're going to the hospital for the rest of the day."

Jacob got up and followed him meekly, his hands shaking slightly. He shoved them in his pockets.

As House signed him out at the front office, Jacob caught Garrets eye for half a moment. The boy glared at Jacob, quickly making a threatening, throat slitting gesture while the secretary was otherwise occupied.

Jacob stiffened, and House turned to look at him. The boy was looking down, hands in his pockets and face pale, his mouth pressed together in a thin line.

Narrowing his eyes, House turned around. Garret stared at him boldly.

House struggled not to snarl at the little asshole. Instead, he walked forward, and with a simple placement of his cane smashed Garret's foot.

The boy howled immediately, shouting a curse word. "Watch it!" he yelled.

"Oh, _so _sorry," House sneered, his tone apologetic but his face angry. From what the secretary could see and hear, it had been an honest mistake, but Garret's point of view was terrifying. House was looming over him, making him feel tiny and defenseless. "I'm so clumsy with this thing sometimes. I could whack someone across the head and not notice!"

Garret paled, leaning back, and House smirked. He limped out the door without another word, leaving Garret blinking and trying to calm his heart rate down, confused as to why he was so terrified of someone he'd just been belittling.

* * *

House snapped the door shut, waiting for Jacob to do the same. There was a long few minutes of silence as House pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"So, what's the real story?" he asked, breaking the stalemate. Jacob stiffened, looking away.

House spared him a glance. "Jacob," he said. "I'm not mad. Wilson won't be mad."

Jacob swallowed, darting his eyes to look at House. The doctor looked totally calm, his muscles relaxed, his face showing no hint of the anger he'd seen so often from his father. "You aren't?" he asked quietly, his voice small and not quite hopeful.

"No. I think the kid deserved it. He looked like a little prick."

Jacob snorted, finally relaxing a smidge. His muscles un-tensed just a bit, the flight instinct he'd been fighting easing.

"You were right to stand up for yourself. Kid's been bothering you for a long time?"

Jacob glanced at House, startled, and said, "Yeah."

"Well you were going to snap eventually."

House looked at Jacob out of the corner of his eye. Yep, the kid was still not telling him something.

"What I have to wonder, though," House continued, his voice nonchalant, "is what really set you off. He found a button, am I right?"

Jacob clenched his fists, angry at the mere thought of Garret's taunts.

"So, what did he say?"

The kid sighed, trying to calm himself down. To tell, or not to tell?

"Come on," House pressed.

"You," Jacob burst out, swallowing and looking away from House. "He was making fun of you. Your cane."

House was stunned. Not by the little prick's taunts, but by Jacob's reaction to them.

"Jacob," he said, after a moment. "… I'm not someone to get in a fight over."

Jacob looked at him, wetness in his eyes. "Yeah, you are! You know what you've done for me? And to have him – belittle you, call you names – I couldn't just let him do that. Making fun of me is one thing."

House was at a loss. Of all the thing's he would have considered, this was not one of them.

How did he react to this? On one hand, it was a stupid thing to fight over. On another, it was an incredibly loving gesture.

"Listen," he said finally. "You may be a fan of mine because I took you out of a bad situation. That doesn't mean I'm a good person. In fact, I'm kind of a bastard. I don't mind you defending _yourself, _but I'm not something that's worth getting detention over."

Jacob said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he spoke up. "Do you know how my dad would have reacted to this?" he asked, his voice monotone.

"He wouldn't have asked questions. He wouldn't have asked to hear my side of the story, wouldn't have cared what my reasoning was even if he had. He would have gotten the call at home, and wouldn't have bothered to show up at the school. Eventually they would have let me go home, and then I'd have gotten the shit beat out of me as soon as I walked in the door, for causing him some little inconvenience. Then, as soon as I could get to the phone, I would have to call in and pretend like my dad couldn't come to meet, but he preferred that I get suspended for the rest of the week so that I could be punished. I'd have to do that to let some of the bruises heal before I went back to school. On top of that, I'd be out in the city for most of the day so couldn't continue to hit me whenever he hit the right level of _drunk._ Then, as soon as I could, I'd go back to school and pretend like nothing happened and keep my head down like I always have."

It was the largest consecutive amount of words that House had ever heard Jacob utter – and he wasn't done.

"You are a good person. Don't tell me different."

House swallowed. Some of the things Jacob had told him had struck deeply – they were similar to the things his dad had done to him. Though, _House's _dad hadn't been a drunk – he'd planned everything, every cold act that had shaped his son into what he was today.

"Alright," he conceded, after a moment. In comparison to Jacob's description, anyone could look like an angel.

The rest of the ride to the hospital was in silence. House was busy contemplating Jacob's words, and Jacob was busy contemplating House's reaction. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, House had figured it out.

"Standing up for someone you care about isn't wrong," he said, his tone even, "But next time, control your temper. Think of a way you can beat the person – but without your fists. You're smart. Use your words. Sometimes that hurts more than a punch anyway."

It wasn't the perfect parenting idea, but it was better than fighting. Jacob nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face.

House was very familiar with the idea that words could hurt more that physical violence. His father had belittled him so much as a child – and as an adult, for that matter – that he'd grown to believe it. He'd never hit Wilson, but he sure as hell had hurt him with his words. Sometimes a poisonous voice could hit you harder than a fist.

"That can't be taken too far either, but we'll talk about that later," House finished, shrugging. He grinned at Jacob suddenly, wishing the kid would stop looking so serious.

"Looked like you got him pretty good in the nose anyway," he snickered, winking.

Jacob smiled faintly, nodding. "Then again, he got me quite a few more times," he added, pointing to his head.

House scoffed. "Idiot. Who punches someone in their forehead? Bet you his hand is mighty sore."

Jacob grinned at the thought.

House suddenly looked serious. "We should probably check that out, though," he added, ever cautious when it came to the care of those he cared about. "With the concussion you had a few days ago, any head injury could get serious."

Jacob didn't look worried, but he nodded, more than willing to placate his guardian. Thinking of Wilson, he frowned.

"What's Wilson going to say?" he worried quietly, following House as he hitched his backpack over his shoulder and limped into the hospital.

House shrugged. "I don't know. Any time I got into a bar fight he spent about half the time worrying about me and asking frantic questions, and the other half calling me an idiot. He'll probably leave out the idiot part for you, though."

Jacob furrowed his brow. House, in a bar fight? He couldn't picture it. "Did you… often… get into bar fights?"

House shrugged, willing to be open with Jacob. He'd certainly been open with House. "Yeah. I wasn't usually thinking clearly at the time. But when your leg feels like something is chewing on it, getting punched in the face makes you feel something else for a while. I'd just hang out in a bar and annoy some poor moron till he lost it."

House rubbed his nose, remembering the various altercations. "Not the best pain management technique."

Jacob snorted. "Doesn't sound like a good one, anyway."

House shook his head. "I'll tell you about some of them sometime – a few of them are actually pretty funny. But right now, you get to let Wilson get on your case.

As if summoned, Wilson appeared. He'd been hovering in the lobby for the last twenty minutes, waiting for House to come back. He just about lost it when he saw Jacob, and the bandage on his face.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, ushering Jacob into the clinic and into an empty room. House followed, amused, and waved to Cuddy as he passed her office.

Wilson was already flashing a pen light into Jacob's eyes, beating House to the chase. "No concussion, thank God. Are you feeling okay? Does your head hurt?"

Jacob looked a bit overwhelmed at the questions raining down on him. "Uh… not really… I mean, kinda…"

Wilson was rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture normally reserved for House. "Anywhere else? Bruises, cuts?"

Jacob shook his head. House leaned over his cane, resting his chin on it as he watched Wilson hover like a bee. His lover was whipping himself into a frenzy.

None too gently, House hooked his cane around Wilson's arm and tugged. "Wilson, calm down. He's fine. You're overreacting."

Wilson turned to House, as if to say something, but then closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "Right. Okay."

He opened his eyes, turning to Jacob. "You're fine."

It sounded like a statement, but he was obviously looking for reassurance. "Yes," Jacob said, after a moment. He was. Garret was nothing - a mosquito bite - in comparison to his father.

"And… was there a good reason for this fight?" he asked slowly, trying not to sound aggressive.

Jacob looked to House for an answer, and House nodded. "Defending someone he thinks is pretty awesome, that's all," he half joked, but the reassuring nod he gave Wilson let him know that Jacob wasn't really in the wrong. "Kid was a bully. Had it coming to him."

Wilson leaned his head back, smiling. It seemed like House had already taken care of this little aspect of parenting. "Well, as long as you're alright, and were just defending yourself, I'm okay."

Jacob nodded, finally calming down for the first time since Garret had tripped him. His guardians had done well – they'd handled him in a mature, calm way, for the most part. He didn't feel afraid. He didn't feel like one of them was going to snap and smack him across the face, as his father often had. He felt… loved.

And that's all a kid ever wants to feel, is loved.

**Next is some interaction between the fellows and Jacob. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Listening to "Steady as She Goes" while typing up the last of this. **

Days passed. Jacob went back to school the next day, with no comments from the assistant principle. He'd been confused when House had told him he wasn't being punished, hesitant as he walked in the door, but as the day passed he'd relaxed. Garret was nowhere to be seen – he'd been suspended, according to rumor. Caught fighting one too many times.

Whatever the case, Jacob had a new reputation at school. For the first time, he wasn't overlooked at every opportunity. People made eye contact with him, knew his name suddenly. It was both unnerving and exciting. Even his lunch table, the people he'd sat with for the entire year, seemed like they'd just met him.

Living with House and Wilson was better with every day that passed. The two men were not strict on anything – Jacob was experiencing a freedom to express himself that he hadn't had in his entire life. When he had a thought, he didn't have to clamp down on it and duck his head. He could say it, and say it loud, and not fear violent backlash. His two guardians quickly changed from distant saviors to fast friends.

And it was easy, for them to befriend him. House could relate to him on a way that he hadn't with anyone else. Jacob had been where he'd been – and because of that, had much the same outlook on life that House did. They laughed at the same things, cracked similar jokes. Pulled away from the violent pressure of his father, Jacob had a sparkling wit that bloomed a little more each day.

As for Wilson, he loved Jacob. He was the kid he'd never had, someone he could care for without fear of being mocked. And Jacob needed him, too – the teen desperately needed some unconditional love and support in his life. Wilson could provide that without blinking an eye.

The relationship between House and Wilson, too, began to bloom. House quickly bounced from poorly hidden innuendos and lewd humor to a quiet compassion. He was more comfortable with touch than he'd ever been – a brush of the hand here, a cuddle on the couch there. Never, not since the infarction had necessitated it, had Wilson been allowed this close. It seemed that they'd made the dive from friendship to relationship without as much as a ripple in the pond.

Soon, the day came when the social worker was scheduled to assess Jacob's situation. When she'd knocked on the door, after both men had come back from work, Wilson had opened it. She'd shown up around an hour early – on purpose. It was the best time to catch bad foster parents.

Mrs. Tate frowned, furrowing her brow. "Is Dr. House here?"

Wilson smiled easily, his brown eyes kind. "Yes. House!" he called over his shoulder. "You must be Mrs. Tate. Come in?"

Tate nodded, and stepped in after the man. Her pen was poised over her clip board, preparing for the worst. She was surprised at the neat home. It didn't seem like the man she'd seen at the hearing.

House still hadn't appeared, and neither had Jacob. Wilson smiled apologetically. "Sorry. They're practicing."

Intrigued, Tate followed Wilson into the living room. There, she found House and Jacob deep into a guitar session, neither of them paying attention to the other two in the room. House was picking out some complicated melody, and Jacob was totally focused in on him, trying to mimic his movements.

Wilson cleared his throat. "House."

House finally stopped, looking up at Wilson. His eyes flicked to Tate.

Jacob was watching silently, his mask in place. Of all the things he was most afraid of, being taken from here was the worst. Inwardly, he was already fighting panic; outwardly, he was as calm as can be.

House set the guitar on its stand carefully. Tate took it as an invitation to begin – so she did. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat herself on the couch and launched into speech.

"Dr. House, as I'm sure you're aware, this is a very unusual fostering case," she pointed out. "I'm here to make sure that Jacob's needs are being met. Don't think that just because you have influence in the Center means you have influence with me."

House raised his eyebrows. Wow. Catty.

Jacob nervously plucked at his guitar, the sound muted.

House leaned back. "So start with the questions, then. I'll do my best to answer as _humbly _as possible."

Behind Tate, Wilson winced at House's tone. Tate merely pursed her lips. She did not like House – not yet. Working with orphans and foster kids had made her a harsh judge of human character, and House was pushing quite a few of her buttons already.

Like a volley of bullets, she barked out questions – everything from Jacob's bedtime to his ride to and from school. She asked about typical meals, about out of school activities, about House's work schedule. She was not kind about it, either.

House calmly and accurately answered her probing, very relaxed. With each minute that passed, the alarming feeling Tate had gotten from the scruffy man at first glance was fading.

Eventually, she turned to Jacob. "Jacob. You need to answer me honestly, okay? I need to know if this is a good environment for you. If there's anything you have an issue with, tell me now.

Jacob took a deep breath, steadying himself. "There isn't. Nothing. I … I love it here."

His voice was thick with emotion, and Tate found that she believed him instantly.

She leaned back, tapping her pen on her clipboard. There was nothing written on the sheet.

Standing, she reached out to shake House's hand. He took it silently, his eyes open and confident. He knew the warning signs she'd been looking for, and he was fully confident that she wouldn't find it. Jacob was healthy and happy.

Tate cleared her throat. "I have to say I miss judged you," she offered grudgingly, always one to right her wrongs. "You're doing very well."

House nodded, silent. There was none of the mocking taunts that she'd expected, and she found herself relaxing.

She turned to Wilson, shaking his hand as well, and then squeezed Jacob on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a month. Jacob, if you ever need to call me, you have my number," she couldn't help but say, ever the pessimist.

Jacob nodded, but she could already see that he wouldn't. The kid she'd seen just a week ago, that scared, frightened shell, was already starting to dissipate.

That Saturday, Jacob went to work with House and Wilson. He had no friends too speak of at school (not yet, anyway,) and didn't feel comfortable alone at the apartment for long periods of time. So, he accompanied the pair of them to work.

They took the same car – according to House, a rare occurrence.

"Normally, we don't," House mentioned, glancing in the rearview as Wilson pulled out, "because Wilson usually wakes up way before me. But this morning we woke up at the same time, so we figured, why not."

Jacob grinned. The pair of them had been bouncing in between their two bedrooms since that first night. He'd never heard anything, but he was plenty old enough to know what was going on.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Wilson scolded, but his eyes were smiling.

As the three of them walked into the hospital, they attracted some strange looks. It was common knowledge that House and Wilson were best friends. It was known, though less commonly, that they were living together. But they almost never arrived at the same time, much less with a kid in tow.

Jacob was already starting to be comfortable in the hospital. It was House's domain, his sanctuary. And where House felt comfortable, Jacob felt comfortable.

The fellows were quickly becoming Jacob's play thing. Like House, he enjoyed messing with people, and he excelled at it. It was fun, for him, to poke at the four men that House so loved to poke at. When Wilson would pick him up from school and he didn't have homework, he would accompany him straight to the hospital. Jacob found entertainment and distraction in the form of House's employees.

None the less, the ducklings couldn't stop themselves from pelting him with questions. Any time House was out of the room, they would ask him things.

When House left that Saturday for a short while, the fellows could hardly contain themselves – especially Taub.

"So," Taub began eagerly, but faltered, unsure of what he was going to ask.

Jacob raised his eyebrows.

Taub shook his head, warming his hands around a steaming cup of coffee. It was so odd to see Jacob in their midst. When Chase and Foreman had told him about House fostering the kid, he had thought they were jerking him around. But here was living, breathing proof that House did indeed have a heart.

"What's it like? Living with the pair of them," Chase asked, looking up from his crossword. They were in a rare lull in the day – with the patient on a potential treatment, all they could do was wait. So the four fellows were hanging in the DDX room while House wandered, likely with Wilson or tormenting Cuddy.

Jacob shrugged. He'd spent less than a week with the pair – he was still trying to process it himself. "It's… interesting. Loud, sometimes. Other times it's very peaceful there."

It was about an accurate description as he could come up with. There were many loud, chaotic things in the apartment. House playing a racing game. He and Wilson bantering over dinner. The pots clacking in the sink as Wilson scrubbed aggressively at them. The TV, when House wanted to annoy Wilson. House's guitar amp, cranked up loud, or his speakers pounding out some rock song.

But, there were quiet moments too – peaceful moments. The nights that they'd stay up and watch an old movie, more than likely falling asleep on the couch. The beautiful music House would create at his piano, or guitar with Jacob. Eating a meal together. Even just sitting in the apartment after school when Wilson had picked him up and gone back to work, doing homework at the table before anyone got home. To Jacob, these moments were something new and extraordinary. His home had never been quiet. If his dad wasn't bellowing or staggering about in a drunken haze, he was snoring like a log saw on the couch with the TV blaring. His home had not been quiet since his mother had died.

Foreman scoffed, interrupting Jacob's thoughts. "Peaceful? With House?"

Jacob shrugged. "He's different at home than he is here. I think sometimes he's so rambunctious here… just to annoy you."

Kutner grinned, but Foreman frowned. "Immature."

Jacob just managed to keep himself from smirking. Out of all the fellows, Foreman was the easiest to push the buttons of. From what he'd gathered from the other three and House, Foreman was the second longest running fellow, so one would think he'd have loosened up a bit. Instead, he seemed to have grown more edgy as the years had passed.

Jacob couldn't quite stop himself from smirking at the new thought. "You're a grown man, and you let him get under your skin and manipulate you. Who's the immature one?"

Foreman's gaze suddenly darkened. From the fellow's perspective, it was nothing more that his usual annoyed expression, but to Jacob, it was much deeper than that. In spite of himself, he found that his pulse was speeding up, his skin was growing clammy.

Quickly, he stood up, fumbling to get out the door. "E-excuse me," he forced out as his stomach lurched, hoping he didn't sound too much like a little kid. Suddenly, he wanted House. He needed the comfort and security that the man could offer.

As soon as he was out the door, he picked up his pace until he got to Wilson's office. He knocked on the door, hoping that House was inside.

"Come in," Wilson called, and Jacob opened the door. To his immense relief, House was lounging on the couch, his hands behind his head.

Jacob shut the door behind him and sank into the couch, trying to calm his respirations before either of them noticed. Now that he was away from the 'threat' of Foreman, he knew he had been overreacting. But his body had been trained rather forcibly to react in a certain way to that particular set of facial expressions and body language, and the flight instinct had been too strong.

House, of course, was not one to let go of his emotional state. "What's wrong?" he demanded, sitting up.

Jacob shook his head, trying to take deep breaths. "N-nothing. I'm okay."

House had the closest expression to worry that Wilson had ever seen on his face. "Jacob."

"It's fine. I j-just freaked. It was s-stupid. Just l-let me c-calm down."

He closed his eyes for a moment, hating the stutter that popped up with his adrenaline levels.

House and Wilson exchanged a look. Wilson's face was showing his concern plainly, his eyebrows knitted together. House bit his lip.

"Wilson, can we have a second?" he asked, nearly sounding apologetic. Wilson blinked at being kicked out of his own office, but he quickly realized that this was a moment that House and Jacob needed to share alone. They needed to be able to connect without another pair of eyes watching. So, he picked up his files and hopped the short dividing wall to House's office, letting himself in and ignoring the confused looks from the fellows as he sat down.

"What happened," House demanded again, scooting closer. He was careful to keep his hands in his lap – he'd already learned that Jacob didn't like to be touched when he was in this state.

Jacob blinked hard, looking away. "I'm just being a c-coward."

House winced at Jacob's tone – it was bleak. "All I can ever d-do is run."

House tapped his cane on the ground. "So who scared you?"

Jacob shrugged, wrapping his arms around yourself. "Doesn't matter. They w-weren't going to hurt me."

"But your body reacted like they were going to."

Jacob nodded miserably, shivering. House sighed.

"Jacob, that isn't your fault. That's a survival mechanism. You see an adult that sets off the warning bells in your head, and you can't help it. You get the hell away. That's your brain trying to protect you."

Jacob still refused to look at House.

House looked up at the ceiling, sighing. "When I was younger… just a kid… my dad would fill the tub with ice and force me into it."

Jacob gaped at House in shock. "He… he _what?"_

"It was pretty hellish. To be pushed down into that, held there. It felt like your whole body was on fire, and the whole time he'd just look at me. Cold."

Jacob was transfixed, his own issues forgotten for the moment.

"When I went away to college," House continued, never taking his eyes off the ceiling, "It had been years since he'd last done it to me, because I'd gotten old enough to fight back just enough to where he couldn't. I was in lacrosse – probably the best player on the team - and we won this huge tournament. And what do the coaches do but pour the ice water jugs all over us."

House closed his eyes for a moment, looking pained.

"I pretty much freaked out right there – my brain told me I was back in the bathroom, being punished, even though I _knew _I wasn't. I ran to the locker-room, puked my guts out and got in the shower, hot as I could stand it, until I got control of myself."

Jacob's eyes were filled with empathy for House. He saw him as this strong, brave adult – incapable of being hurt. But when House opened up to him like this, he found it easier to accept his own 'faults'.

House finally turned to look at him. "It isn't your fault, Jacob, and that wasn't mine. You aren't being a coward. Your body is engineered to survive as long as possible, and your asshole dad trained it to act this way."

Jacob finally relaxed fully, slumping on the couch. He could feel the adrenaline slipping away, his breathing return to normal.

On impulse, he leaned into House and hugged him. House stiffened in surprise, but, slowly, he let his arms circle Jacob and pat his back gently.

"Thanks," Jacob whispered, his face buried in House's shirt. The contact – gentle, reassuring – was something he desperately needed.

A few moments later, he sighed shakily and leaned back, rubbing his face.

House leaned down over his cane, sending Jacob a sideways glance. "Now. _Who _scared you?"

Jacob snorted. "Foreman. I said something cheeky and he got all pissed."

House's expression didn't change, but inside he was dealing with an entirely new and foreign protective rage. "Cheeky?"

Jacob smirked, his charming self rapidly replacing the frightened kid that'd been sitting next to House moments ago. "He said you were immature. I told him he was immature for letting you annoy him so much."

House grinned, mussing up Jacob's hair. "Kid, you and me. Together we'll drive Foreman out of the state."

Jacob grinned. "Now," House continued. "You and Wilson should go down to eat something while I finish up this case, so we can go home."

Jacob nodded, and hopped off the couch. House followed him a bit more slowly out the door.

When they got to his office, House eyed Wilson and nodded slightly. Wilson's shoulders relaxed, his eyebrows falling from their previous height.

"You and Jacob go and eat," he suggested, smiling at Wilson slightly to reassure him. "Bring me back something."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "The usual?" he inquired as he walked out the door, Jacob in tow.

House nodded, and his lover and Jacob walked off.

Now that he was alone, House gritted his teeth. He turned to the DDx room and strode in purposefully.

"Kutner, Taub, and Chase, out. Go do something productive. Foreman, stay."

The fellows blinked, confused for a moment. Then, they caught sight of the dangerous expression in House's eyes, and scrambled to comply. The three were out within moments, only Foreman remaining seated.

House walked over to him, tapping his cane on the table lightly. "You freaked him out," he said bluntly, jumping straight to the point.

Foreman looked confused. "Who, Jacob?"

"Yes."

"How? I didn't do anything!"

"Your body language and facial expression triggered something inside of him. You. Freaked. Him. Out."

With each word, House's expression was getting more dangerous.

"He freaked out from an annoyed facial expression?"

House cocked his jaw, looming over Foreman. "His dad was a drunk that beat him on impulse. You think he has a good reason to be afraid of annoyance?"

Suddenly, Foreman was sobered. His eyes widened. "You… you really care about this kid, don't you?"

House gave him a withering look. "Not the freaking point."

Foreman held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I'll watch it around him from now on. Sorry."

House snorted. "Don't just 'watch it'. If you do that to him again, I'll fire you. Watch your temper. I don't give a crap if you're a sullen bitch with me, but if he's around, keep it to your damn self."

Foreman, though a tad worried about his job, couldn't help but be amazed at House's apparent overprotective reaction.

Finally, he looked down, somewhat subdued. His normally huge ego had been docked a bit by House's unusual seriousness. "Got it."

House stared at him for a moment longer, as if assessing his seriousness. Finally, he relaxed slightly. "Good. Now go find something to do. In face, check on the patient. I want to go home."

Foreman complied.

When House turned back to his office, Wilson was sitting in his chair, chomping on a sandwich and eyeing House fondly. Jacob was nowhere to be seen.

House scowled, snatching half of the sandwich. "What?"

"That was adorable," Wilson cooed, smirking.

"Shut up."

**Aww. Any suggestions? Leave them in the review section! Any ideas I use, I'll give credit to the reviewer. Just looking for some inspiration...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you to everyone fore the great ideas! You all are so helpful.**

The days passed. January turned into February fairly quickly, no one noticing as the time passed. And with February came the usual amount of romance and hullabaloo.

It was not yet known at the hospital that Wilson and House were together – though it was highly suspected. The two were the most talked about in the hospital by a wide margin. Wilson had been turning down dates and offers to coffee. House had been minutely less grumpy in the clinic. These were small things, but they were enough to have Chase setting up a betting pool about the two men's relationship.

Valentine's day rolled around, as it does every year. The men drove to the hospital in separate cars, per usual, and arrived at different times, per usual. Only this time, when Wilson woke up, it was House that was gone, and not vise versa.

Wilson couldn't help but be faintly suspicious about it. He knew that House knew what day it was. The fourteenth of February, to House, was an annoying and somewhat cumbersome reminder of humanity. But Wilson knew he remembered it, every single year. Because, normally, House would go home early and get drunk and ramble about Stacey to Wilson when he came home from work to do the annual clean up.

Hopefully, this year would be different.

And, by God, it was. After dropping off Jacob, Wilson opened his office door that morning and nearly fell backwards. The reason? His office was filled – to the absolute maximum – with balloons. Red, white, and pink Valentine's Day balloons. Something was making a tinny, mechanical song in the unreachable depth of the room… Dancing Queen.

It was House, alright.

As balloons escaped into the hallway, Wilson sat down on the bench outside his office and laughed.

"What the hell, Wilson?" Cuddy asked. She'd arrived to work only to find her secretary animatedly gossiping about the scene in Wilson's office, and she'd come straight up. By this time, Wilson was having nurses take the helium inflated balloons to various patient rooms to get rid of them.

Wilson cracked a grin at her, handing her a particularly putrid sparkle covered pink balloon. "Happy Valentine's Day, via House."

* * *

House was struggling to keep a straight face in the DDX room as he watched the balloons be carted out of Wilson's office. His fellows hadn't arrived yet, accustomed as they were to House coming in late on any given week day. He figured they'd be sorry that they'd decided to sleep in – hopefully, his stunt with the balloons would have the hospital talking for weeks.

Wilson wandered into his office a few minutes later, a satisfied expression on his face. He was carrying two balloons, a red and a white, both in the shape of hearts. He tethered both to the whiteboard.

"You're keeping the, there," he informed House, and House just laughed and agreed.

"I'm getting you back for that," he said, sitting a chair next to his lover and grabbing his hand. "Don't think I won't."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

Wilson leaned over to give House a kiss, which House returned with interest.

* * *

The red and white heart shaped balloons remained tethered to the whiteboard for the remainder of the day. None of the fellows had courage enough to ask about it, for a good three hours. They all treated them like they was some sort of mystical apparition.

Finally, Foreman had the testicular fortitude to speak up. "What's with…?" he questioned vaguely, gesturing to the balloons.

House grinned at him. "My favorite hooker got 'em for me. You like?"

Foreman frowned, disgusted, but Chase spoke up from the other side of the table. "You're not buying that, are you Foreman?"

Foreman and House both gave Chase a piercing look, but he continued on. "You didn't hear what happened in Wilson's office this morning?"

Kutner and Taub were laughing, both trying to cover it up with coughs. They'd both heard the rumor, but Foreman, with his pursuit of professionalism, discouraged people from gossiping around him.

"What?" he demanded sourly.

Kutner laughed out loud. "He filled Wilson's room with balloons. Thousands of 'em. How in the hell did you manage that?" he asked, turning to House.

House smirked, leaning back. "I got up early and offered some of the students a lecture if they'd fill them before Wilson got here."

Chase grinned. He'd just won quite a bit of money in the pot, if his hunch was correct.

The same thought seemed to be going through Kutner and Foreman's head, though Taub seemed oblivious. Kutner was the only one brave (or possibly stupid) enough to ask.

"So, are you and Wilson… I mean… are you guys… uh…" he asked, confident at first and then, realizing what he was saying, suddenly timid.

House was suppressing a smile at by then, but to the fellows he looked bored and emotionless. "Care to clarify?"

Kutner was very quiet at this point, and paler than a man of his color should feasibly be.

"He wants to know if you and I are together, House," Wilson clarified from the doorway, a slight smirk on his face.

If possible, Kutner paled more. "Oh – I mean – Dr. Wlison, I – "

House was really struggling now. "I don't know Wilson. Are we together? Or are we just – uh – roommates?"

Wilson laughed, and the fellows collectively looked at each other.

"I don't know House, I think I'm too handsome for you," Wilson joked, flipping his hair and winking.

House scoffed. "If anything, it's you that can't handle my rugged good looks."

"Oookay," Foreman interrupted. "Not that I don't think the bromance is fun and all, but I think I'm going to go down to the clinic."

Taub and Kutner hurried out the door after him, glancing over their shoulders at the two smirking men.

Chase was the only one to stay, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "You going to answer or what, cuz I have a pool riding on this."

House and Wilson silently exchanged glances. House was, in his own way, seeking permission. He didn't give a damn about what people thought about him, but Wilson had a reputation at the hospital. And, as far as House was concerned, he was nothing to boast about.

Wilson didn't even give him time to think.

"We get a cut of the pool."

Chase grinned. "Fine."

Wilson grinned back, grabbing House's hand and holding it up in a "victory" pose.

"I knew it!" Chase exclaimed, throwing a fist in the air. "About freaking time, you two."

House swallowed, suddenly, inexplicably finding his eyes stinging. He blinked away the feeling before anyone noticed.

* * *

By the end of the day, _everyone _knew. That was mostly because almost everyone had had money and the pool, and very few of them had been seriously betting that House and Wilson were together. There is nothing that spreads news faster like losing money.

To their credit, House and Wilson carried on like they always had. They ate lunch together, they hung out in each other's offices. But , suddenly, their actions were being taken as love instead of as friendship. They got plenty of looks from passerby – Wilson got some curious of flat out disbelieving stares, and House got several acid glares from aspiring nurses that were hoping to be the next Mrs. Wilson.

House didn't care. The fact that Wilson had so readily claimed him – so readily trashed his reputation – was more than enough for him. He got hate filled looks every day. A few more didn't bother him, not when Wilson was by his side.

Wilson, similarly, seemed indifferent to the whispers of the nurses. As much as he cared about appearances, being House's friend for years had cured him of any vainness when it came to that particular part of his life. As far as he was concerned, not much had changed – other than the fact that he and House were now officially together, and there would be no more divorces.

Of course, neither of them could get through the day without Cuddy finding out. A bit after lunch time, they were both called down to her office for a private meeting.

After they'd both been texted, they joined together in the hall.

"Cuddy?" House asked.

Wilson nodded. "You think it's about…?" he asked, gesturing between the two of them like the relationship was a physical rope holding them together.

House rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Why else would she willingly call me down there, with you in tow?"

Wilson smiled nervously.

Sure enough, when they got down to the office, Cuddy looked up silently. "Sit," she demanded, after a moment, pointing to the chairs in front of her desk. She got up while they sat, closing the blinds on the nosy staff that were surreptitiously peeking glances inside.

Wilson bounced his leg nervously, sure he was about to be scolded, and House twirled his cane. Cuddy came back around to sit on her desk, silently appraising them for a long moment.

"You two are together," she stated. It wasn't a question.

Again, Wilson did the confirming. House nodded as well when Cuddy looked at him.

"This will not affect your work," she informed them. "And there will be no PDA in my hospital."

Wilson blinked. This was not what he'd been expecting. "Uh… no, of course not, Cuddy."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at House. "Filling someone's office with thousands of _balloons _counts as affecting your work, House."

He grinned.

Wilson reassured her as best he could. "No further problems, we swear."

House smirked, amending his statement. "Well, I can agree to the work part, but as far as PDA goes…"

Cuddy shot him a dangerous look, slowly turning her head back to focus on Wilson. "Keep him in line, Wilson."

Wilson chuckled. "Yeah, right."

* * *

Fairly early in the afternoon, both men were done. House had had no case, and Wilson had had an unusually light workload. They decided to take Wilson's car to go and pick up Jacob from school.

The boy spotted them, trotting over to the car through the schoolyard and sitting in the car silently. He was unusually quiet. Usually, when Wilson picked him up, he was happy and had a new joke or something along those lines to tell him. But now, his mouth was in a thin line, his eyes worried.

"What's up, kid?" House asked, looking in the rearview at Jacob. His sharp gaze missed nothing on the kid.

Jacob opened his mouth, then closed it. "I… this girl…"

Wilson's eyes widened, and House turned around. "Yes…?"

"This girl asked me to the Valentine's dance. Friday."

House whistled. "Jacob, bro! You're killing 'em!"

"That's great, Jake," Wilson agreed, smiling.

Jacob didn't look very happy about the whole prospect. "I guess."

"Do you not like her back or something?" Wilson asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Yeah, is she a hag?" House added, and Wilson shot him a look, frowning.

"No, she's fine. I just…"

He spread his hands wide, looking down at himself. "Why?"

House had been wondering the same thing all day long, but with Wilson. So he knew what the kid was feeling… and he didn't know how to fix his problem.

Wilson did, instead. "You're a very handsome young man," he insisted, giving Jacob an encouraging smile. "You've been putting yourself out there more. I told you, that's all it takes!"

Jacob still looked troubled. "I've known her since like… elementary school. But she never…"

"Just take it as a compliment, Jacob. There's nothing wrong with you now, and there was nothing wrong with you before," Wilson explained gently. "She just saw her chance and she took it."

"What's her name anyway?" House asked.

"Eleanor."

"Sounds like a…" House began haughtily, but trailed off at Wilson's look. He sighed. "Sounds like a nice young woman. With an old ass name," he slipped in.

Jacob laughed.

* * *

That night, House and Wilson lay together on the bed. House's arm was around Wilson's shoulders, both men tired from the day but not yet tired enough to sleep.

"I can't believe you just told everybody," House burst out, breaking the soft silence of the room.

Wilson opened his eyes, looking over at House. His face was confused.

"I mean, you didn't even stop to think about it. You just… told them."

Wilson's face suddenly cleared. "Are you… Did you not want them to know? House, I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"No! Wilson, _I _don't care. I couldn't possibly give less of a shit. But I thought… you would."

Wilson swallowed, laying back. House was examining the ceiling.

"I'm not ashamed of you," Wilson reassured him quietly. As usual, he saw through all the extraneous data and right into House's soul.

"No reason why you shouldn't be," House replied bitterly.

Wilson got up, looking hard into House's face. "I. Am. Not. Ashamed of you," he reiterated, his dark browns staring into House's sky blues. "There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing to be ashamed _of._"

House closed his eyes, pulling Wilson back down. He put his chin on top of Wilson's head, sighing.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Wilson," he breathed, sounding slightly more at ease.

"Happy Valentine's Day, House."

**To give credit where credit is due - Two reviewers suggested that I give Jake a girlfriend. They are: ****Fox. House and nickythehippi. Thanks guys! Also, other reviewer's suggestions have been taken into account and may appear in further chapters. Credit will always be given at the end, like this. Thanks again!**


	16. Chapter 16

**No excuse for horrible delays other than real life... and the horrors of Precalculus. Thanks to all of you who stuck with the story anyway...**

Jacob nervously ran his hand through his newly shortened, styled hair, glancing out the car window.

"Your hair looks fine, Jake," Wilson reassured him. They'd dropped House off at the apartment before running to get Jacob's haircut.

Jacob made a noise that could have been interpreted as a "yep".

"You don't need to be so worried," Wilson continued. "Just be yourself."

"But…what if she doesn't like 'me'?" he questioned, his countenance suggesting that that was a very likely possibility.

"Then she's not worth your time," he said firmly, thinking of his ex-wives. "If they don't love you, for you… there's no point."

Jacob looked less than convinced. "Who'd love me for me?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked a lot like House in that moment.

Wilson swallowed. "House and I do, and you know it. And there will be other people that you meet. Just give it time. You don't have to get married in a day, alright?"

Jacob shrugged.

* * *

When they arrived home, House was in the bathroom, soaking his leg in the tub. Wilson knew this because the radio was playing from the counter in there. He tried to keep the worry from his face.

He lingered by the bathroom door, glancing at Jacob. The kid looked as worried as he felt. He motioned Wilson away from the door with his finger.

"Did he strain it or something?"

Wilson sighed. "Just worked it too hard today," he answered, choosing not to mention the emotional turmoil House was also going through. "Bathes help it."

Jacob knew this. Over the past few months, he'd watched House in his own carful way. When House was in a lot of pain and his leg was stiff, he'd always soak it in the hot water for a few hours. These were also the times when Wilson would be tense and trying so hard to look normal that Jacob could see the worry in his face like a neon sign at night.

Jacob nodded. He hated it when House was in pain. The man had saved him from so much pain and hardship… but Jacob could do nothing for him in return. For the moment, House's pain was eclipsing his worry about the dance.

He let Wilson pull him into a tight hug. He wouldn't admit it, but Wilson's embrace felt like one of the safest, securest, warmest places in the world. "He's okay, Jake. He just needs some time."

Jacob nodded.

"Why don't you go heat up some leftovers? That casserole from last night is still good. I'll be there in a little bit."

Jacob drifted off, and Wilson waited for a moment until he heard the fridge open. He knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" House's voice said, not quite yelling over the music.

"It's Wilson."

"I'm not up for friction," he half joked, though honestly he wasn't. His leg was working hard to _stand, _let alone… other activities.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Can I come in?"

House sat up straighter, stretching. Not that he minded Wilson seeing him naked, but it was still nice that he'd thought to put bubbles in the tub. Maybe it was childish, but he liked them. They were relaxing.

"I can't very well hop up and lock the door," House finally responded.

Wilson let out a sigh of relief, opening the door and pushing it shut behind him. He couldn't help an amused quirk of his lips when he saw House neck deep in a tub of bubbles.

"Sexy."

House grinned, though tiredly. "I said no friction."

Wilson took a seat on the toilet. "House, saying no to sex? Will the wonders ever cease," Wilson teased, though very, very lightly. He didn't want to stumble into a bear trap. Some nights, House wasn't up to it, and that was perfectly fine with Wilson.

Wilson slid down off the toilet seat, choosing instead to rest his back on the tub. He leaned his head back on the side and sighed.

"Wanna give me a rating?"

House gave him an irritated sigh that clearly said _no, I do not, and you know it. _

"Is it better, at least?" Wilson rephrased.

House frowned into the bubbles. He didn't like that Wilson knew when he was hurting, even when he tried to keep it on the DL. "Yeah. The water helps."

"Good."

An easy silence followed. House carefully cupped a handful of bubbles and set them on Wilson's hair. He didn't notice.

"The first time I dated," House mused, "It didn't go very well."

Wilson angled his head so that he could make eye contact with House. "I gathered, from your reaction with Jacob. What happened?"

For a moment, the only sound was the faint popping of the bubbles. "I wasn't the most popular kid at my school. At any school. I was always the new kid, always kind of awkward. Shitty clothes, military haircut, social issues. If we hadn't have moved around so much, I would have been moved up a few grades, and that might have been easier. But, as it was, I was stuck with people that were way below me intellectually."

Wilson snorted, but not because he thought House was bragging. "I think that's probably true no matter where you go, House."

House flicked him lightly in the ear. "I'll remember that next time you're calling me a moron," he said lightly, then continued on.

"Anyway. By some stroke of what I thought was luck, a popular – nay, a _hot_ chick – ended up asking me on a date. Mary Callis. I went home and made the mistake of telling Mom where _he_ could hear me."

Wilson's stomach started to hurt.

"He…" House sighed. "He kind of poisoned my brain. Told me all sorts of things. _You aren't good enough, she pities you, she's just using you_. Thing was, he said it so much, and with so much… pain… accompanying it… that I started to believe him."

Wilson closed his eyes.

"So, eventually of course, a dance comes up. And she wants me to ask her to it, obviously. Only, I didn't. I thought she'd just flat out laugh at me. So I avoided it, pretended like I had no thoughts about that dance what-so-ever."

House flicked some bubbles off the side of the tub.

"Mary Callis was not used to having fidgety, flighty, nervous boyfriends that were afraid to dance. So she dumped me. Brutally."

House winced, the memory still painful after all these years. "In front of pretty much the entire lunchroom."

Wilson turned to House completely.

"The worst part was, I didn't blame her. I just accepted it, walked away and stopped talking to her, and I think that made her angrier. She was defiantly used to having the boys chase _her, _and not the other way around. So she proceeded to make my social life hell for the rest of the year, till we moved away. His words were truth."

Wilson leaned over the side of the tub and pulled House into a deep, loving kiss. "Mary Callis," he breathed, in between pecks, "Made the worst… mistake… of her life… that day."

He stopped kissing, but didn't move away from House's face as he spoke, totally ignoring the bubbles all over his work shirt. "She doesn't know what she's missing."

House smirked, the sadness in his eyes fading a bit. "Mary Callis was as dumb as a box of rocks. Though _damn_ did she have an ass."

Wilson would have responded, but House kissed him again. His preference was clear.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Wilson sat down at the kitchen table in his undershirt and pants. Jacob looked up, and, chewing his casserole, calmly said, "You have bubbles in your hair."

It was Friday evening. The night of the dance.

House had been elected to be the chauffeur for the evening, as Wilson was on an overnight trip for an oncology conference. This particular scheduling accident had come as quite a shock to Wilson. He'd been horrified.

House had already snapped a picture or two of Jacob with his phone. As silly as he felt doing it, he knew Wilson would never forgive him if he didn't get a picture.

"We are _not _taking the bike," Jacob said firmly as they walked together into the driveway. "We have to pick her up, and we won't fit."

House rolled his eyes. "Please. Get in, we're taking my car."

Jacob looked relieved, and slid in next to House.

House was unusually quiet, and had been all day. He was thinking about what he could possibly say to Jacob, what advice he could give him. Wasn't that what guardians were supposed to do? Give advice?

Jacob seemed as nervous as House felt. He continually worried at his tie on the drive over, fidgeting and squirming in the passenger seat.

"Relax," House said firmly. "You're getting all worked up for no reason."

He knew it was the right thing to say, even if he was still having doubts himself.

"I'm fine," Jacob insisted, impetuous. He sounded a lot like House, and the doctor winced. Was this how Wilson felt when he was being stubborn?

"You're terrified," House rebutted shortly. Jacob closed his mouth, looking away.

"Listen, kid. It may work out, and it may not. You may find that she's a shallow moron, and she may find that she doesn't like having a genius boyfriend. Girls don't seem to like it when you're smarter than them."

"Eleanor is in the top ten of our class," Jacob defended her, missing the point entirely.

House sighed. "Academically, maybe she's okay. But I don't mean academically. I mean logically, mentally. You may find that you don't like her, after getting to know her better."

Jacob looked almost as if he was pouting. This was the closest the two had come to fighting since Jacob had come to the apartment two months ago. "_I _like her. I don't know if _she'll _like _me._"

House shrugged. "You can't force it."

"Well, how do you and Wilson work?" Jacob demanded, latching on to the only stable, truly loving relationship he'd ever experienced.

House laughed. "How do we _work?" _he repeated, thinking it over. It was kind of a funny question. "We've been friends for the better part of twenty five years, Jacob. We have history."

"I know that. But how… how do you even start?"

House shrugged, his eyes on the road. "I don't really have a lot of experience in the girlfriend department," he said smoothly, though on the inside, a pang went through him at the thought of Stacey. Even now, as happy as he was with Wilson, he wondered how it might have worked out with her. She, for a long time, had been the love of his life.

"Just do what you feel is right. I don't have a magical diagnosis for you. If she likes you and you like her, sometimes it's that simple. Don't over think it. Go with your instincts."

By that time, they were pulling up in front of Eleanor's house. House could sense Jacob looking up at it in fear. The place was practically a mini mansion.

"Figures," House snorted. "With a pretentious ass name like Eleanor, she was bound to be rich."

Jacob swallowed. Suddenly, he felt even more out of his element than before. He slid out of the car, feeling like his feet weighed a thousand pounds each.

House sighed, kneading his forehead. He had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't a parent! He wasn't the example that this kid should be following! Doubts plagued him like an attack from a bee hive.

Before he had a chance to fly into a full blown panic attack, Jacob got back to the car. House turned around, watching silently as the girl followed him in.

His blue eyes studied her carefully. She was in a dark blue dress, sleeveless. Her hair was in an updo, the light brown curls pinned in place. She was smiling at him.

Jacob cleared his throat. "Eleanor, this is…" he began, and then trailed off. He realized he had no idea how to introduce House to other people.

House took over. "House. Dr. House."

Eleanor looked slightly confused, but she smiled through it. House thought distantly that her parents had certainly taught her social etiquette. "Nice to meet you, Dr. House. Eleanor Dicarlo."

House did not smile. He nodded once and then turned around.

The silence in the car soon became awkward. Jacob leaned forward from the back seat and turned on the radio, if only to break the tension.

Eleanor smiled. "I love this song," she commented, drumming her fingers on the armrest. Jacob smiled at her. If anything, mentioning around House that she liked ACDC would improve her standings with him.

House narrowed his eyes, glancing back. "You play drums," he observed, tone flat.

Eleanor looked startled, her hands stilling. "How did you know that?"

"You're tapping on the armrest. I can hear it."

Jacob blinked. He didn't know that she played the drums. He didn't even know that she liked music other than bad pop tunes.

"Jake plays guitar," House said, almost boasting.

Eleanor looked eager. "You do?" she asked, turning to him excitedly. "Can you sing?"

Jacob blushed. "Uh… I haven't really tried," he stuttered, embarrassed. He could carry a tune, but even around House he'd never audibly sang.

House was starting to relax. "Maybe you two should start a band," he joked, grinning. Wilson would hate it. Guitars, he could handle, but a drum set would drive him up the wall.

He could see that Jacob was relaxing too. Music was a topic they could easily converse about, without the pressure of getting to know each other's back stories. By the time they pulled up to the school, Jacob was smiling and relaxed.

"I'll pick you up at eleven?" House asked, knowing that was when the dance ended. Neither of them had a license or a car, so the after party was a no go.

Jacob nodded. He slipped out of the car, loitering after shutting the door.

Eleanor leaned forward in the seat. "Nice to meet you, Dr. House," she said pleasantly. "Thanks for the ride."

House observed her for half a moment. "Hurt him, and I will destroy you," he replied flatly, ignoring her attempt at peace. He didn't have an issue being rude to get his point across.

The girl nodded solemnly. "I get the feeling that he kind of had a bad life up until a few months ago," she mused, "and I wouldn't want to hurt him anyway."

House stared at her a moment longer, then nodded. She slid out of the car and joined Jacob, slipping her arm through his and leading him to the entrance.

* * *

House watched them go until they walked inside. Then, he slumped in his seat. He really, really wished Wilson were here to tell him he was stupid for worrying. What a terrible time to be gone at a conference.

He shook his head, driving back to the apartment. Since when did he need Wilson to get through something tough?

_Since always, _a little voice in the back of his mind answered, and he couldn't help but agree. Wilson had been his rock for so long. From the infarction to today, he'd been there, aside from a few gaps in-between. He really did love the man.

And Jacob. _God, _Jacob! That kid had latched onto him since the day he'd walked into that exam room. He loved him like a… like he supposed a son should be loved by a parent. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. It'd only take two months for the kid to become… a part of him.

When he was safely inside the apartment, sitting on the couch, he pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment.

He wanted to call Wilson. The man was perfect at calming him down. But he was bound to be busy, giving speeches and running around. He was always a social butterfly at those conventions. No, he couldn't call him. Though he did send him the photo of Jacob while he was thinking about it.

But… he did need to talk to _someone. _The bottle of scotch that they kept in the cabinet for special occasions was calling to him, much more loudly than he was comfortable with. He couldn't just… get drunk. Though he might have in the past, he had a responsibility to Jacob now. He winced just thinking about what the kid's reaction would be if he found House wasted.

He stared at the phone for a moment longer, then gave in. He pulled up the contact and pressed the green button.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cuddy," House said after a moment. "Want to come over?"

* * *

**Buckets of thanks to Taylor1991, nickythehippi, Amber SanGiovanni, De-em2, and for ideas. Large, chocolate filled buckets. **


End file.
